The Wedding Planner
by beckyharvey29
Summary: Wherein Ian is getting married, and Mickey pretends to be a wedding planner.
1. The Wedding Planner

"What do you think about hiring a wedding planner?"

Ian lifted his head and quirked an eyebrow. "A wedding planner?" he asked around his mouthful of cereal, a drop of milk dribbling down his chin in the process. He wiped at it with the back of his hand as he regarded the other man.

"Yeah," Ian's fiancé answered with a shrug as he stood at the counter island in front of Ian, pouring his own smaller, healthier bowl of cereal. "What's wrong with having a wedding planner?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong with it," Ian assured him. "I just thought we were having something small, with just a few family members and some friends?"

"Yeah, well, there's nothing wrong with being organized and having some sort of plan."

Ian slowly chewed his food as he considered Ayden's suggestion.

Ian had met Ayden two years earlier, back when Ian had started tending bar at the club. Ayden—dressed in a fancy suit and tie at the time—had asked Ian for an apple martini, and very shortly after that he had asked for Ian's number. Ian couldn't help it; he had always been a sucker for a nice suit and tie. They had gone home together that first night, and had been together basically ever since.

Once Ayden set his sights on something he wanted, he usually got it. Ian had been no exception.

Ayden was quiet, conservative, organized, and laid-back; whereas Ian was loud, reckless, messy, and outgoing. They were about as different as two people could be. But Ayden was exactly what Ian needed in his life…someone to keep him sane and grounded, someone to help keep his bipolar ass in check.

Sometimes, though—Ian could admit only to himself—things tended to get a little too 'vanilla' as far as their relationship was concerned. Sometimes he wished their conversations went beyond daily happenings and current world events. Sometimes he wished the sex was a little dirtier (okay, a lot dirtier). Sometimes he wished Ayden would learn to just be without feeling the need to impress people constantly. Ian wished Ayden would laugh more, live more.

Their relationship also didn't really have that spark that most people sought out while searching for the great love of their lives, but Ian was okay with that. He could deal with that. He appreciated Ayden. Ayden was good for him.

That was good enough for Ian.

So when Ayden proposed a couple of weeks ago over an expensive lobster dinner at a stuffy, fancy restaurant, Ian didn't hesitate to say yes, because he knew Ayden could make him happy; knew that Ayden was willing and able to take care of him. Their relationship was safe, comfortable, and stable. Ian wasn't about to pass that up. He had never had that before in his life. He had never had stability and safety before, and he knew he deserved it.

"So, what do you say?" Ayden pressed on before taking a delicate bite of his cereal.

"Okay, we can do a wedding planner," Ian said as he picked his bowl up and slurped at his milk, which he knew was earning him a distasteful look from the other man, but he did it anyway just to get under Ayden's skin. "But I get to pick the planner."

"Really? And why is that?" Ayden asked.

"Because I say so?" Ian replied with a cocked eyebrow and playful smirk.

"Oh, is that right?" Ayden said as he placed his bowl down and walked around the island to where Ian was sitting.

Ian smiled lasciviously and spread his legs open, giving Ayden space to stand between them. He grabbed the man's tie and tugged playfully, pulling Ayden closer. For a brief moment, Ian thought that Ayden might actually throw him on the counter and do naughty things to him. Instead, Ayden cupped Ian's face in his hands and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to Ian's forehead.

"Fine, you can pick the planner, but remember we're on a budget, so don't go overboard. I know how you can get once you get my checkbook in your hand," Ayden muttered against Ian's forehead. "And make sure you ask for references. Don't just pick the first person you come across. Planning a wedding is not something to get spontaneous about, Ian."

Ian hid his disappointment with a fake smile when Ayden pulled back.

"I have to go, I'm going to be late for my meeting," Ayden said as he grabbed his suit jacket and put it on. "Call around, see what you can find, and set up a meeting."

"Got it," Ian said monotonously, and then watched as his fiancé opened the door to leave.

"Love you," Ayden added over his shoulder as an afterthought.

"Love you, too," Ian replied, the small smile slipping from his face once he was alone.

He looked around the expansive, sparkling-clean, luxury penthouse that they shared, seeing that not one thing was out of place…nothing was ever out of place. Ian couldn't help but think—in the deep recesses of his mind—that maybe the only thing out of place there was him. He quickly squashed those thoughts and stood up to place his empty bowl in the sink.

He knew Ayden would give him hell later on for not rinsing the bowl out and placing it in the dishwasher properly, but he figured it was worth it to get at least some sort of rise out of the other man.

* * *

Mickey walked into the small, cluttered, two-bedroom South Side apartment he shared with his sister and tossed his jacket over the back of the couch.

"The fuck're you watching?"

Mandy didn't bother taking her eyes off the television screen. "The Saved By the Bell documentary on Lifetime. It's some pretty fucking riveting stuff. You should watch it," she said, patting the spot on the couch next to her.

Mickey scoffed in disgust, acting as if he was completely disinterested, but he still sat down next to her to watch it. "Heard Screech was a dick in real life," he muttered as he reached forward to steal a handful of her popcorn.

They watched in silence for a few minutes before Mandy spoke.

"So, how was work, dickhead?"

Mickey groaned and rested his head back against the couch. "Fuckin' hell. Danny called off again, so I had to take over his shift and serve double the tables. Tips were good, though."

"Sounds fun," Mandy said blandly.

"What about you?" Mickey asked, frowning when he saw who Lifetime had cast as Zack. The guy wasn't nearly fucking hot enough. "How was that new hotshot client you met with today?"

"About as picky as they fucking come," Mandy said, "She wants all this shit shipped in from Paris. Fucking Paris! But she's paying me a shit ton of money, so it'll be worth it. Can you believe this is her fourth fucking marriage?"

Mickey scoffed. "Fuckin' rich, straight people…and they say that we're the ones who ruin the fuckin' quote unquote sanctity of marriage."

Mandy—despite the fact that she had never been in love, nor had she ever been able to sustain a meaningful, long-term relationship—had decided to become a wedding planner, of all things. She had decided that—even though she never planned on getting married herself, and didn't really believe in the whole 'sanctity of marriage' bullshit—she might as well help other people plan to fuck up their own lives. The money was great and she got paid to essentially plan parties. She loved it.

"It's going to take up every spare moment I have for the next couple of weeks," Mandy continued with a groan. "So it better be fucking worth it."

Mickey stood up and walked over to the small kitchenette to grab a beer from the mostly-bare fridge. He kicked the door shut and plopped back down on the old worn couch, intent on finishing the shit show of a documentary, just because he was bored and not because he was genuinely interested or anything.

Mickey scoffed when he saw who they had cast as Slater, and he was officially done.

* * *

Mickey was on his lunch break the next day when he decided to pay his little sister a visit. The diner he worked at was only three blocks away from his sister's small office on the outskirts of the North Side, and he usually made it a point to get lunch with her a couple of times a week, since their busy schedules usually kept them from spending much time together, despite the fact that they lived together.

Plus, she usually offered to pay, so that was a nice bonus.

Mickey pulled the door open and walked into the small, air-conditioned space, seeking his sister out but not finding her.

"Aye, Mandy here?"

"She stepped out for a minute," Mandy's assistant Emily said.

"Any idea when she'll be back?"

"She just ran down to the post office. She should be back in about five minutes."

"Guess I'll just sit around and annoy your ass for a bit, then," Mickey teased.

"Yay me," Emily said playfully.

Mickey took a seat on one of the fuchsia pink chairs that lined the wall. He looked around, still a little in awe at the fact that Mandy had actually made something of herself despite their awful, hellish upbringing. It had taken a few years, even more loans, and a lot of people giving her a chance and building up her references, but here she was, doing her thing…and she was really fucking good at it.

He smiled softly, feeling pride for his little sister in that moment.

The bell above the door chimed and Mickey looked up, expecting to find his sister returning, but instead he found himself staring back at a redhead. A redhead that, quite literally, took Mickey's breath away.

The man was fucking beautiful. Tall, pale, freckly, incredible eyes. Just from the little Mickey saw, the man had a certain confidence about himself…and Mickey definitely liked what he saw.

Emily looked up and smiled kindly at the man; the clipped, playful tone of voice she had used on Mickey was now gone. "Hi, can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah, I hope so," the man said, and Mickey realized even the guy's voice was fucking incredible. "I'm lookin' for M. Milkovich. I'm gettin' married in a couple of months, and my fiancé and I are lookin' for a wedding planner. I found a card for this place on the bulletin board at the grocery store over on Randolph. Thought I'd check it out."

Mickey didn't know why he was surprised. Why else would someone come walking into a fucking wedding planner's office if they weren't getting married?

"I'm sorry," Emily said apologetically before looking down at her scheduling book. "We're actually all booked up for the next month and a half. We're a one-woman show around here, so appointments are extremely limited."

"Oh…that sucks. Thanks, anyway," the hot stranger said, sounding disappointed before turning to walk out the door.

Mickey stood up abruptly, not knowing why the hell he was doing so, he just suddenly felt inclined to. "Uh, Emily. Why don't you check the book again," he said, scratching his temple and avoiding Emily's perplexed stare. "I'm sure we can squeeze him in somewhere."

The man turned and looked at Mickey then, looking as if he was just noticing Mickey for the first time. Their eyes locked and Mickey was the first to look away, wondering just why in the hell he was getting such a reaction from a complete stranger…a complete stranger who was straight and getting married for fuck's sake.

Emily looked genuinely confused. "Uh, no, we don't have any—"

"I'll figure somethin' out," Mickey interrupted her with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just pencil him in somewhere."

"Right," Emily said. "Okay."

"Wait, you're M. Milkovich?" the man asked, turning fully towards Mickey and holding up the pink, flowery business card he held in his hand. "You're the one woman show?" He smirked in amusement.

Mickey swallowed down the lump in his throat, realizing that the guy had almost a good six inches of height on him; yet another thing he liked about the guy. It looked like this guy had the ability to toss him around a little, rough him up a bit between the sheets.

Christ, he couldn't believe he had a fucking crush on some random dude he'd just met. What the fuck was wrong with him?

"Yeah, uh, that's me. I'm Mickey…Milkovich," Mickey said, holding out his hand for the man to shake.

The redhead took Mickey's hand with a small, tentative smile. "Ian…Gallagher."

"Uh, Mickey?" Emily asked from behind them, sounding genuinely confused.

"Em, take Ian's information and set up a meeting," Mickey said, realizing he was still holding Ian's hand. He pulled his hand back quickly, not wanting to freak the guy out.

"Okay," Emily said slowly, "I'll get right on that…_boss_."

"So, you're the wedding planner?" Ian asked, looking and sounding a little skeptical about it all.

Mickey swallowed hard and wondered what the hell he was getting himself into, and why he felt so compelled to not let this guy walk right out the door. "Yeah, why? Got a problem with that?"

"No," Ian stammered, looking Mickey over. "No problem, it's just that you don't really look like a wedding planner. You know, with the tattoos and…and everything." Ian paused to take a look around the office. "And everything is so…pink."

"Yeah, well, fuck you. I'm a wedding planner and damn good at it, too," Mickey retorted, feeling irrationally defensive. "Shows what the fuck you know."

"Hey, no offense, tough guy," Ian said with a chuckle as he held up his hands in surrender. "You're progressive, that's cool. Uh, so should we set up that meeting or not?"

"Yeah, what day's good for you?" Mickey asked, not really knowing how to go about doing this. He guessed he was fucked and was now stuck helping this guy plan his wedding. Really, though, how hard could it be? He just had to listen to the guy talk, take into account the shit he wanted, and make shit happen. It would be a piece of cake. If Mandy could do it, he sure the fuck could.

"Well, my fiancé can only do late evenings or weekends."

At the mention of Ian's fiancé, Mickey was brought back to reality after having gotten momentarily lost in Ian's eyes. "Uh, yeah, right," he stammered. "How's tomorrow night? Six o'clock good for you?"

Ian grinned. "Tomorrow at six is good…great, actually. Should we meet here?"

"Uh, no…no," Mickey quickly said, knowing that that would be a terrible fucking idea. "How about the, uh, coffee shop over on seventy-ninth and Ashland?"

"Sounds good," Ian said with a kind smile.

"A'ight, it's a date then," Mickey said, but quickly backtracked. "Uh, I mean, cool. Yeah, we can meet then." The very idea of sitting across from Ian and some woman, helping them plan their wedding, didn't appeal to Mickey in the least, but he still kept going along with it. All Mickey knew was that he wanted to see Ian again.

Ian gave Emily his information and turned to leave, but not before tossing a grin over his shoulder at Mickey. "See ya tomorrow, Mickey."

Once Ian was gone, Mickey finally relaxed with a sigh, and then looked at Emily with raised eyebrows to find her watching him. "Can I help you with somethin'?"

Emily just smirked knowingly with an arched eyebrow, leaned back in her swivel chair, and went back to her previous paperwork. "Nope," she said with a pop of her lips.

Just then, Mandy walked in, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. "Holy shit, did you see that tall slice of fucking heaven walk past just a minute ago?"

"Sure did," Emily said tauntingly, tapping her pencil against her desk. "He's Mickey's new client."

Mandy turned to glare at Mickey. "What the fuck did you just do?"


	2. Close Encounters of the Douchebag Kind

As usual, Ayden was late.

Ian checked his gaudy, too expensive watch (a birthday gift from Ayden) for the tenth time and sighed. Everything else in Ayden's life was properly in place and ran like clockwork…except for, it seemed, anytime Ian made plans with him. Meetings always seemed to run too late, work hours always seemed to run a little too long whenever Ian needed him. It didn't matter that it was something important, like planning their fucking wedding.

Work always seemed to come first, as far as Ayden was concerned, and Ian tried not to let it get to him too much. After all, Ayden worked hard—in large part—to provide for Ian, to give him a good life, so Ian knew he shouldn't complain. At least not out loud.

Ian glanced up in the middle of shooting Ayden a hasty text when someone walked into the bustling coffee shop, and he found himself smiling immediately at the sight of the other man.

"Sorry, I'm late," Mickey grumbled as he pulled the chair across from Ian out with a loud scrape and sat down. Mickey looked flustered and out of breath as he fumbled with a large binder and some loose papers, looking completely disorganized and incredibly fucking adorable.

Ian had been instantly charmed and attracted to the guy the moment he had laid eyes on him the day before, thinking he had the most amazing blue eyes and the most delicious looking mouth. Mickey also had a hot little body that—in another life maybe—Ian would do the naughtiest, dirtiest things to.

That was information he was definitely going to keep to himself, and definitely information his fiancé didn't need to be privy to.

Ian was already worried enough as it was about what Ayden was going to think about their new wedding planner. He knew Ayden was going to be pissed that he had chosen a man to do the job, and the tattoos and the general roughness of the guy would surely have Ayden looking down his nose at the other man.

Deep down, though, Ian got some satisfaction in knowing that his choice in a wedding planner would get under Ayden's skin.

"It's okay," Ian said, watching as Mickey tried to compose himself and get organized. He smiled again in spite of himself at the man's nervous clumsiness. "Ayden's not even here yet, so you're good."

"Cool," Mickey said, not once looking up. "So, uh, first thing's first, I guess. How long have you and Erin been, uh, been together?"

"Um, It's Ayden actually…and a little less than two years," Ian said, leaning against the table on crossed arms, catching a whiff of Mickey's cologne in the process. He really liked the way this guy smelled. "We met at the club I tend bar at. He came in one night, ordered a drink and, as they say, the rest is history. Kind of a borin' story, huh." Ian watched as Mickey's head shot up, their eyes finally meeting.

Ian had been dreading this, worrying about what Mickey would do or say upon realizing that his newest clients were gay.

"Oh," was all Mickey said after a long, awkward silence ensued.

"Is that okay with you?" Ian asked apprehensively as he slowly stirred his frappuccino. "That we're gay?"

"The fuck should I care?" Mickey asked, once again avoiding Ian's eyes.

"Most people get weird about it, you know."

"Yeah, well…I'm not most fuckin' people."

Ian smiled gingerly, watching as Mickey nervously thumbed at his bottom lip as his eyes scanned over a paper. He eyed Mickey's knuckle tattoos, unable to stop the dirty thoughts that suddenly flooded his mind…visions of those hands smoothing over his body, those fingers wrapping around his—

"Hi, I'm late. I know. Traffic was a goddamn nightmare over on ninety."

Ian's head shot up at the sound of Ayden's voice, and he immediately pushed his chair back and stood up, feeling incredibly guilty about his impure and inappropriate thoughts. He silently berated himself, telling himself to get a fucking grip. He was actually daydreaming about fucking his goddamn wedding planner for fuck's sake. What the actual fuck was wrong with him?

"Hey, it's okay. We weren't waiting long," Ian said breathlessly, leaning in to kiss Ayden chastely on the mouth. He then motioned towards Mickey, who was staring up at them expressionless. "This is Mickey Milkovich…our, uh, our wedding planner."

* * *

Mickey locked eyes with Ian's fiancé and could instantly see the look of disdain and disapproval in the other man's eyes. He instantly didn't like the guy, and couldn't help but wonder what the hell Ian saw in him. Sure, the guy was gorgeous…what the fuck ever. He was the quintessential tall, dark, and handsome…with perfect features, dazzling white teeth, and piercing hazel eyes. Still, Mickey had a bad feeling about the guy.

And Mickey was usually pretty fucking dead on when it came to first impressions.

Mickey stood up and held out his hand, figuring it was the professional thing to do. He watched as the douchebag eyed his hand disparagingly, undoubtedly judging him by his tattoos, as most people seemed to do. Finally, the man shook Mickey's hand reluctantly, his grip strong and stiff and clammy.

"Mickey Milkovich."

"Ayden Scott," the man said surly before tugging his hand away quickly.

Mickey swallowed the lump in his throat and braved a look in Ian's direction, seeing the silent apology in Ian's eyes.

Mickey suddenly wished he hadn't come. He had thought about it—a few dozen times—thought about just standing Ian up. But at five o'clock, he found himself showering, dressing, and heading out the door regardless…complete with the binder Mandy had begrudgingly let him use, even though she had made it clear that she thought it was a 'really, really terrible fucking idea, Mick.'

"Right, so…should we get started?" Ian asked cheerfully with a clap of his hands, obviously trying to break the awkward tension.

Ayden loosened his tie a little, still looking impossibly stiff and pissed off as he sat down next to Ian. He placed a possessive hand on the back of Ian's chair as he did so. "Sure, I'll start." He fixed Mickey with a cold stare. "Can I see your references?"

"Uh," Mickey stammered, not knowing how to answer that, considering he had no references, considering he wasn't really a fucking wedding planner. "My, uh, my ref—"

Luckily, Ian saved him again. "It's okay, babe. I checked him out yesterday."

Mickey held back a smile at Ian's choice of words, wondering if he was reading too much into them.

"Uh, his references," Ian added quickly. "I checked his references out. He's good. Highly, um, highly recommended."

"And you're sure he's legit?" Ayden asked as if Mickey wasn't even there. "Where the hell did you find him at, Ian?"

"Jesus. Would you calm down," Ian snapped in a hushed tone, not wanting to attract attention from neighboring patrons.

"You could have at least warned me that you hired some dumb thug from the street to plan our goddamn wedding," Ayden hissed under his breath, but not quiet enough.

"Okay," Mickey said sharply, standing up to gather his things before he lost his temper and decked the guy. He wasn't about that life anymore, but he knew if the urge struck hard enough, he'd have no problem laying the other man out with one punch.

"Wait, where're you going?" Ian asked, tearing his eyes away from his seething fiancé.

"Look, I can take a fuckin' hint, alright? Go find yourselves another fuckin' wedding planner. I'm out." Mickey headed towards the door, hearing a curse and the sound of a chair scraping backwards. Once he was out on the sidewalk, he heard Ian's voice behind him.

"Mickey, hold up. Wait a minute."

Mickey stopped and heaved a sigh before turning to face the other man. "The fuck do you want?"

"Don't mind him," Ian said, hooking a thumb back over his shoulder. "He's just a little…tightly wound."

"You fuckin' think!" Mickey exclaimed, eyebrows shooting up.

Ian laughed, his whole face lighting up. "Look, just come back. I'll get him to come around. Come on."

"The fuck makes you think I wanna keep subjecting myself to that douchebag's bullshit?"

"Okay, first of all, that douchebag is my fiancé," Ian said defensively. "Second of all, if you come back and deal with that douchebag, I'll buy you coffee…maybe I'll even go crazy and throw in a scone."

Mickey stared back at Ian as he thumbed at his nose, before allowing his lips to curl into a smile in spite of himself. He just really couldn't seem to say no to this guy.

"Alright, fine, but as soon as he even looks at me funny again, I'm fuckin' out." Mickey started walking back towards the coffee shop, wondering why the hell he was such a glutton for punishment.

His eyes involuntarily dropped to Ian's ass as Ian slipped in front of Mickey to grab the door. _Oh yeah, that's why_.

"Just a question," Ian said as he opened the door to go back inside. "I should have asked you before, but you do have references, right?"

"'Course I fuckin' do," Mickey said with a scoff, avoiding Ian's eyes at all costs, and trying to ignore the fact that Ian smelled really fucking good as he brushed past him. "The fuck kinda business you think I'm running here?"

"Okay, I'll trust you on it."

Mickey wondered why Ian's words suddenly made him feel like shit.

* * *

During the rest of their meeting, Ian did most of the talking while Ayden sat back in his chair, arms crossed as he eyed Mickey disdainfully.

Mickey kept his eyes down most of the time as he took down all the information and notes Ian animatedly rambled off to him.

When it came down to it, Ian and Ayden's wedding was a little over two months away and was going to be a small, but lavish affair…nothing Mickey couldn't handle with a little bit of Mandy's help.

Mickey couldn't help but think that the whole wedding thing was complete and utter bullshit. Not only just the whole marriage part, but he didn't get the point of having a big celebration and spending a shit ton of money on something that would probably only end up in divorce in the long run anyway. Courthouse weddings—should anyone be so fucking stupid to actually want to get married—should be the only way to go.

Mickey was just happy that he would never have to go through any of that stupid, sappy, romantic bullshit.

"It's getting late, can we wrap this up?" Ayden asked haughtily, interrupting Ian's giddy rambling and checking the time on his Rolex, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was bored out of his mind. "I have some work to do at home and I'm famished. I skipped lunch."

"Why don't you just eat here?" Ian asked rather irritably. "They have food, you know."

"You know I don't eat this crap, Ian. It's nothing but hidden ingredients and added preservatives. I actually care about what I put in my body, unlike someone else I know," Ayden finished, poking Ian in the side.

Mickey looked up with a raised eyebrow and looked between the two men, wondering once again what Ian could possibly see in him. The guy really was a fucking tool and a half. As far as Mickey could tell, there was not a damn thing wrong with Ian's body.

"Alright, we'll go," Ian said with a sigh before looking at Mickey. "Should we set up another meeting or something?"

"Uh, yeah," Mickey said, knowing he should shut this shit down now, but instead he penciled Ian in for another appointment three days from then.

Ayden was already standing up and slipping his suit jacket on.

Ian and Mickey stood up as well and reached out to shake each other's hands.

Mickey glanced down at their locked hands and then looked up at Ian, swallowing thickly, thinking that no handshake should ever cause that much of a reaction.

"Thanks for everything," Ian said before pulling his hand away. "I'm excited to see how everything comes together."

"Yeah, me too," Mickey said distractedly, surprised he still had a voice. He looked at Ayden to reluctantly shake the man's hand, but found that Ayden was already heading for the door.

Ian gave Mickey a weak, apologetic smile before following Ayden out the door.

Mickey watched Ian go, and then slowly sat back down in his seat and ran a hand down his face.

* * *

On the way home, Ayden didn't say one word, just drove in silence, his posture stiff and his eyes focused on the road. Once they parked the BMW and entered the expensive complex where they lived and entered the elevator to head up to their seventh-floor penthouse, Ian finally broke the silence.

"You were an asshole today," Ian finally snapped. "You completely fuckin' embarrassed me back there."

Ayden finally looked at Ian, his face smug. "Do you blame me? Not only do you not tell me our wedding planner is a man, but…that guy? Really, Ian? It's like you went to the deepest slums of the South Side and picked up the first hoodlum you could find. You've made some pretty questionable choices in your life, but this one definitely takes the cake."

"Why do you have to be such a pretentious, judgmental dick all the time?" Ian asked, his face burning with anger. The elevator doors slid open and Ian exited, anxious to get into their too big, too fucking gaudy penthouse, lock himself inside of their immaculate, completely ridiculous bathroom, and soak in the tub for a few hours, just to get away from Ayden's stupid fucking smug face.

Before Ian could even make it inside, though, Ayden had his arms wrapped around Ian from behind, his breath hot on the back of Ian's neck.

"Come on. Don't be mad. I'm sorry."

Ian sighed and tried to relax in his lover's arms, but he was still smarting with anger. He turned in Ayden's arms and fixed him with a pointed glare. "Why do you always insult me? Every time we fight, you put me down. You couldn't have just said you didn't like my choice in a wedding planner, you had to remark about every fucking bad choice I've made in my life?"

Ayden clicked his tongue and reached up to caress Ian's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You know I didn't mean it."

"Yeah, I've heard that before," Ian murmured, finally feeling himself start to relax.

"You know I love you," Ayden said, leaning in to nose at Ian's jaw. "I just didn't like the way the guy looked at you."

"What?" Ian stiffened a little, even after Ayden began kissing at his neck, which was usually Ian's weakness. "What are you talking about? He wasn't looking at me."

"Oh, please," Ayden said, reaching down to palm Ian through his pants. "He was looking at you like he was lost in a desert, and you were a tall glass of fucking water."

Ian's eyes fluttered closed, unable to deny that what Ayden was doing to him felt good. "You're wrong. It's just that crazy imagination of yours. He…he's not even gay."

"Mhm," Ayden hummed.

"He doesn't want me."

"Maybe he doesn't," Ayden said, his breath hot next to Ian's ear, "but I do." He reached behind Ian and slid the key card to open their door, and they practically tumbled into the penthouse, their lips locked in a passionate kiss.

Minutes later, they were naked and falling onto the massive king-sized bed. Ian was revved up and ready to go, anxious to heat things up a little, but—like always—Ayden decided to skip the foreplay, got into the standard kneeling position, and waited for Ian to prepare him.

Ian grabbed the lube, went through the motions, and then entered him. As usual, Ayden was quiet and reserved and lasted only a few minutes before he collapsed against the eight-hundred thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, grumbled something incoherent, and dozed off.

Ian sat back on his knees and stared down at his leaking, unspent dick and ran a hand down his face. He crawled off the bed and padded into the marbled master bathroom and locked himself inside.

Convincing himself that Ayden was just exhausted from work—and not a completely selfish asshole for falling asleep—Ian finished himself off and came hard in his fist minutes later.

He didn't even want to acknowledge the fact that it was visions of intense blue eyes staring at him, and a tattooed hand wrapped around his cock, that had pushed him over the edge.

* * *

Mickey entered his apartment and tossed his messenger bag on the floor before making his way to the fridge to grab a well-deserved beer.

Mandy looked up from her cluttered desk in the corner of the living room and smirked. "So, how'd it go? Was it a complete and total disaster? How high on the Richter scale?"

Mickey took a satisfying chug of his ice-cold beer and leaned back against the counter island before answering her. "It went alright, I guess. They just want a small ceremony and reception…fifty guests tops. Nothing I won't be able to handle. Plus, they're paying good fucking money, and I could always use the extra cash."

Mandy rolled her eyes. "I still can't even believe you're actually going through with this. You are seriously fucking demented."

Mickey shrugged and took another chug of his beer.

"Why are you doing this, anyway?"

"Told you, the money's good," Mickey answered nonchalantly. "Although, the guy's fiancé is a total dick, so I hope the money's worth it. Fuckin' better be if I'm going to have to put up with that asshole for two months."

Mandy's head shot up. "Wait, back the fuck up. Your client is gay? Tall, gorgeous, redheaded Adonis guy is gay?"

Mickey avoided immediately answering by taking another sip of beer.

"Mickey, have you completely lost your fucking mind? What are you—what do you—why the fuck…I don't even know what to fucking say right now!"

"Alright, calm your goddamn tits," Mickey said, scrunching his face in irritation and holding up a hand. "Nothing's going to happen."

"So, you're not hot for the guy? Mickey, the fucking half-blind old lady in the bakery across the fucking street is probably hot for the guy."

"Just because I'm gay and he's gay, it doesn't mean shit, alright? Dude's getting fuckin' married. I might not have fucking morals, but I'm not stupid," Mickey said, realizing how big of a hypocrite he was being, considering he was very-much-so attracted to the guy, and definitely wanted to get to know him better.

"Don't do anything stupid, do you hear me?" Mandy warned. "I'm serious, Mickey. The guy is engaged. He's getting married. Don't fuck that up just because you wanna get your dick wet."

Mickey rolled his eyes and pushed away from the counter island to head to his room. "You act like I'm gonna fall in love with the guy or something. It's just a fuckin' job. He's getting married in two months, and then I'll get my check. What's so fuckin' hard to understand about that?"


	3. It's 2 AM, I Must Be Lonely

Mickey was heading into the ninth hour of his twelve-hour shift and his feet were already killing him. The diner was unusually busy for a Thursday night, but that just meant the tips were good…so he shouldn't really complain, even though he still did to anyone that would listen.

He made his way through the bustling kitchen and pushed his way out of the side door to the back alley where the employees took their smoke breaks. He leaned back against the brick wall and lit his cigarette before taking a long, satisfying drag with a groan. Smoking was the one vice he would never give up, and he had a lot of them.

He yawned and rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand. As was usual for the past two days, the vision of Ian Gallagher's face popped into his head.

Ever since their meeting in the coffee shop, he couldn't seem to get the enticing redhead out of his head. He had even picked up extra shifts to keep himself busy and to take his mind off the guy, but it still didn't seem to help.

He couldn't really believe himself, getting all bent over a guy he barely even knew outside of a couple of conversations, one of which the guy's fiancé had been present for.

He badly needed to get laid. That's all it was. He hadn't been fucked by anyone in almost six months. He needed to find some nameless, faceless stranger and get fucked senseless. Then he'd go back to normal. He'd get Ian Gallagher out of his system.

The door suddenly opened next to him, and April—a stunningly pretty, vivacious waitress—joined him. She grinned when she spotted Mickey. She had started working at the diner a little over a year before. After relentlessly and embarrassingly pursuing Mickey for a few weeks, Mickey had to finally break it to her that he was gay and was all about the dick. Things had been tense and awkward there for a bit, but now they were on good terms, even though she still tried to offer Mickey hand jobs from time to time when she was drunk.

"Fucking crazy in there tonight, right?" April asked as she dug through her apron pocket for her lighter. "Asshole at table ten keeps grabbing my ass. He usually leaves a decent tip, though, so I figure what's the harm in letting him cop a couple feels. Rent's due in a few days, I could use the extra cash."

Mickey grumbled around his cigarette, not really in the mood for idle chitchat.

"Hey, are you doing anything after work tonight?" April asked as she tucked her cigarette between her cherry red lips and lit it. She took a long drag and blew the smoke towards the night sky before adding, "A couple of us were thinking about going out for Jermaine's birthday to have a few drinks, some gay strip club over in Boystown. It'll be fun, you should come."

Jermaine was one of the line cooks…a flamboyant, likable guy who made it his own personal mission to keep everyone laughing and in good spirits, no matter how stressed out they got during the job.

Mickey liked Jermaine well enough, which was why he found himself easily agreeing to go. Besides, he could definitely use a few stiff drinks after the night he'd had, and what better place for a gay man to find a random fuck than a gay bar in Boystown?

* * *

Ian gave a wry smile as he listened to his regular customer attempt to tell a story, only catching the gist of it considering the guy was slurring and having trouble sitting still in his seat. Ian shook his head in amusement as he shook the cocktail shaker he held in his hands. "I think it's time to cut you off, Gage. You can't even string words together anymore."

"Fuck that," Gage slurred with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm fine."

"Go home and fuck your boyfriend, Gage," Ian said sternly. "I can't serve you anymore."

"He ain't my boyfriend no more. Fuck that fuckin' queen and the horse he rode in on."

"Ah," Ian drawled, "that explains a lot."

"You gonna give me 'nother beer or what?" Gage slurred, slamming his mug down.

"Sorry, you're done."

"Who the fuck're you to tell me I'm done, bitch?" Gage slurred, but Ian couldn't really take the guy's anger too seriously, considering he was now cross-eyed and sputtering.

"I'm the bartender, that's who, and I say you're cut off," Ian said, keeping his tone light and steady.

"You're a fucking dick, that's what you are."

"Uh huh," Ian said patronizingly with a nod of his head, before looking up and locking eyes with the bouncer and nodding his head towards the intoxicated idiot.

Roger nodded in affirmation and walked over. "We having a problem here?"

"Yeah, we are," Gage sputtered. "This ginger fuck here won't pour me 'nother drink."

Ian shook his head disbelievingly and laughed. The shit he put up with for money.

"If Ian says you're cut off, you're cut off," Roger explained. "That's the way it goes around here, pal."

"I'm going to call you a cab," Ian said as he reached for the phone under the bar. "Go home and sober up."

"Fuck you!" Gage said, jumping up from his stool and slamming his fist down on the bar. "I don't need a fuckin' cab, I need a goddamn drink, you stupid fuckin' twink!"

"Okay, big man," Roger snapped, roughly gripping Gage up by the arm and leading him towards the front exit.

Ian watched as Roger ushered Gage out the door. He shook his head before going back to pouring shots for his slightly less-inebriated patrons.

"Well, that fuckin' escalated quickly, didn't it?"

Ian's head shot up and he was face to face with those blue eyes he had jacked off to just two nights before. Ian found himself grinning at the sight of the other man. "Mickey…hey."

Mickey slipped onto the stool Gage left behind and shifted to pull his wallet out from his back pocket. "I was a second away from stepping in and knocking that guy's lights out. That guy seemed like a grade-A asshole."

"Ah, that's just Gage. He gets a little obnoxious sometimes, but he usually means well. Believe me, I've dealt with worse."

Mickey snorted in amusement as he slapped a twenty dollar bill on the bar top.

"So, what're you doin' here?" Ian asked, thinking to himself how absolutely fucking delectable Mickey looked in just a black sleeveless shirt and faded blue jeans.

"Relax, I'm not stalkin' your ass or any crazy shit like that," Mickey said with a smirk. He nodded his head down the length of the bar to a group of six waiting to get their drinks at the other end. "I'm here with some work friends for a birthday celebration. I had no idea this was the bar you worked at."

"Oh…guess it was fate, then."

Mickey eyed Ian and then dipped his head, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk as he scratched at his nose with his thumb. "Yeah. Guess so."

"So, work friends, huh?" Ian continued as he wiped out a beer mug. "I thought you were the only one who did the whole wedding planning thing?"

"I am," Mickey said quickly to cover his ass. "I work at a diner a couple nights a week for some extra cash on the side."

"Ah, I see. Fucking economy," Ian said with a grin, his whole face lighting up. "So, what can I get for you, gorgeous?"

"I'll have a beer…and none of that fancy shit either…just a regular beer," Mickey said. He watched as Ian drew a regular, non-fancy beer from the tap. All Ian wore was a pair of short white shorts and a sparkly silver tank top. Any other guy would have looked absolutely fucking ridiculous wearing that getup, but not Ian. He somehow pulled it off. "And don't think you're gettin' a bigger tip just because you're tossing compliments out there."

"Not expecting a bigger tip, just throwing out facts," Ian said with a wink as he placed Mickey's beer in front of him. He laughed to show he was kidding around.

Mickey's heart sped up regardless.

Ian leaned across the bar on his elbows, their faces only a foot apart. "It's on the house. I figure it's the least I can do for you havin' to put up with Ayden's shitty attitude the other day. Sorry about that, by the way. He was being a bit of a dick."

"Thanks," Mickey grumbled, "and I've dealt with worse assholes in my life, so it's all good."

Ian just shook his head and laughed as he wiped at the bar with a rag.

Mickey sipped his beer as his eyes scanned over Ian's sweet face. "Are you wearin' fuckin' eyeliner?"

Ian laughed and took a step back. "Hey, fuck you. It's part of the work uniform."

"Uh huh," Mickey said against the rim of his mug as he continued to stare at Ian, a smirk tugging at his lips. He decided right then and there that Ian's smile was his new favorite thing. "Well, it doesn't look half bad, Gallagher."

Ian lifted his eyes and smiled almost shyly.

Mickey slowly pulled his beer away from his mouth as he stared back, slightly captivated.

The moment was broken when Jermaine decided to interrupt them. "Oh, who's the cute bartender?" he exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Mickey's shoulders and leering at Ian seductively.

"Hi, I'm Ian," Ian said, reaching out to shake Jermaine's hand. "I'm one of Mickey's clien—"

"Friends," Mickey said quickly, ignoring the weird look Ian was sending his way. "We're friends."

"He's hot, son!" Jermaine whispered hotly against Mickey's ear, not even trying to be discreet. "If you don't take him home tonight, I'll definitely get on that…or, more precisely, he can get on me."

Mickey resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes. "Well, you're shit out of luck, man. He's taken," he said flatly.

"Engaged, actually," Ian corrected.

Mickey took a sip of his beer, his good mood suddenly dampened.

"Oh, that's too bad," Jermaine said, tightening his arm around Mickey's shoulders and shaking him a little. "Mickey here was looking to get laid tonight. He needs dick in thee worst way, let me tell you! Thought he'd gone and actually gotten himself some good luck for once."

"Jesus Christ, Jermaine, will you shut the fuck up," Mickey hissed, not catching the falter in Ian's smile at Jermaine's words.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Jermaine. I should really get back to my other customers," Ian said, his eyes flickering to Mickey's briefly before turning to head to the other end of the bar, trying to ignore the disappointment that had surged through him at finding out that Mickey was on the prowl to take someone home.

Well, on the bright side, at least he knew for sure that Mickey was gay.

Ian pushed those thoughts out of his head and scolded himself because, really, none of that shit even mattered. He was engaged, and what Mickey Milkovich did and who he did was none of Ian's fucking business.

* * *

After dancing with a slightly aggressive April (who not so subtly kept trying to grab his dick) for a few songs, Mickey made his way back to the bar and searched for Ian, not finding him. He ignored his disappointment and recited his order to the other bartender on duty.

A warm body suddenly slid up next to him. "Hey, handsome. I don't remember ever seeing you here."

Mickey turned his head to find that one of the dancers had decided to take a break from his pole, and was intent on striking up a conversation with him. "Hey," Mickey said apprehensively. "My first time here."

The guy wasn't ugly—a little too skinny and mousy for Mickey's taste—but he still accepted the guy's offer for a drink.

"Nice. You here with anyone?" the guy asked, leaning in a little closer into Mickey's personal space.

Mickey took a sip of his beer and involuntarily swept his eyes behind the bar, still not seeing any sign of Ian anywhere. "Nope," he found himself saying dully.

It was time to cut this shit off before it crossed into dangerous territory. He had to get Ian out of his head. Ian was about as unattainable as unattainable could get. Mickey may be an asshole, but he wasn't about to fuck some guy who was two months away from getting married, no matter how big of a prick he thought Ayden was.

Just as Mickey was about to make plans with his new friend to meet in the back alley, he heard a commotion coming from the main stage and Mickey turned his head to see what all the fuss was about. He watched in stunned silence as Ian stood in the middle of the stage, dressed now only in a pair of black booty shorts and a bow tie.

Mickey watched as Ian began dancing to the music, his body rolling with the tempo, his upper body taut and tight, his thighs solid.

Man, what Mickey wouldn't do to get between those thighs…

Yeah, he definitely had to shut this shit down quick.

"Damn, Milkovich, you didn't tell me your friend was a dancer, boo! He's so fucking hot!" Jermaine said as he came sauntering over, his eyes glued on Ian the entire way as he slurped lasciviously on his straw. "Please tell me you've hit that at least once. Please!"

"I didn't know he was a dancer," Mickey snapped as he took in the sight of Ian's tight, hot body. He swallowed hard and forced himself to look away, knowing that checking out his engaged client was only going to get him into trouble. "And no…I haven't hit that."

"Such a shame. Well, whoever snagged that hot piece of ass is one lucky—"

"Alright, I fuckin' get it, alright? Jesus," Mickey spat before he downed the rest of his beer in one long gulp. He slammed his mug on the bar top, burped crudely, and turned to the man who had approached him two minutes earlier. "Wanna fuck?"

"Not while I'm on the clock, but meet me after?" the guy said as he slid a finger up Mickey's bare forearm. "My name's Keith. I get off at two…and then I'll get you off."

Mickey watched as Keith sashayed away, wondering how many more beers he'd have to guzzle by two o'clock for Keith to look even remotely fuckable.

"That who you're taking home tonight?"

"Looks like it," Mickey said dryly as he motioned for the bartender.

"Eh, he's alright," Jermaine said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Definitely doesn't have Ian's face or tight little body."

"Keep your fuckin' commentary to yourself, thanks."

Jermaine lifted up his hands in surrender and then sauntered off to go find his slightly less bitchy friends.

After ordering a fourth beer and making sure to not look anywhere near the stage, another warm body sidled up next to him. It was on the tip of Mickey's tongue to tell whoever it was to fuck the fuck off, but he stopped short when he saw that it was a sweaty, red-faced, completely fuckable-looking Ian that was now cozied up next to him.

"Hey," Ian said breathlessly, his warm breath ghosting across Mickey's face.

"Aye," Mickey said curtly, tearing his eyes away.

Ian leaned against the bar, his bare upper body brushing against Mickey's forearm. "Yeah, so…I'm guessin' you saw me up there."

"Yeah," Mickey said with a curt nod of his head, his eyebrows shooting up.

"Look, can you maybe not mention it around Ayden? He doesn't know that I dance. I used to dance a little before he and I got together. He made me stop, though. He didn't like the way the guys looked at me. He's a bit insecure if you didn't already notice. I just recently got back into it."

"Don't worry 'bout it," Mickey said a little flatly. "The last place I want to be is in the middle of you and your guy's problems. I'm just the wedding planner, not your fuckin' marriage counselor."

Ian ran a hand down his sweaty face and continued. "I only dance every now and then, a couple times a month. I love it, you know? I know it sounds stupid, but it's therapeutic in a way. I love just getting lost in the music. I love forgettin' my problems for even just a few minutes."

"And havin' guys drool all over you? Guys gropin' you? That has nothin' to do with it, huh?"

"It's not about that," Ian defended with a frown.

"Hey, look, you don't have to explain shit to me," Mickey said flatly, still avoiding Ian's eyes as he bristled with irritation.

Ian frowned. "Look, am I missin' something here? Did I do or say something wrong?"

"Nope."

"Oh, because you're really being a prick right now," Ian finished, sounding hurt.

Mickey finally turned his head and looked Ian in the eyes, knowing it was a big fucking mistake before it even happened. "No," he finally said softly, forcing himself to turn his head. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. I think I've just had one too many beers."

Ian seemed to relax. "Look, I know I shouldn't lie to him, but it's not like I'm out fucking other guys, you know? It's just dancing."

Mickey laughed lightly into his mug when he realized that Ian had been thinking about his fiancé the whole time, while Mickey had been dealing with his jealousy at seeing Ian dancing half-naked in front of strangers.

He suddenly fully grasped just how ridiculous he was being. Ian wasn't his. Ian would never be his. Ian was fucking engaged to be married in two months to the biggest fucking tool in Chicago. Ian was practically a stranger. Mickey didn't need to be getting fucked up over some guy he barely even knew.

Mickey shook his head and laughed dryly, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Fuck," he mumbled, then slid off his stool and brushed past Ian.

"You headin' out already?" Ian asked, turning and leaning back against the bar on his elbows, tempting Mickey even further without realizing it.

"I'm going to go look for someone to stick my dick into. I'll see ya later," Mickey said haughtily as he walked off into the crowd, completely unaware that he was leaving behind a completely dumbfounded Ian.

* * *

At one-thirty, Ian called last call and wiped at the counter halfheartedly, wanting nothing more than to go home and soak in the hottest bubble bath ever, and then sleep for twelve hours straight.

He looked up and watched as Mickey and his group of work friends began making their way towards the exit. He caught Mickey's eyes briefly before glancing away, knowing that looking into those blue eyes was dangerous.

"Aye."

Ian's eyes shot back up to find Mickey now leaning against the bar in front of him. "Hey. You end up findin' someone to stick your dick into?" he asked, trying to play it cool, which wasn't exactly his forte.

"Nah, man," Mickey said with a shrug. "Slim pickings tonight. Maybe next time."

Ian looked away, not wanting to think too much about why he was so relieved to hear that information. It was none of his business that Mickey was going home alone. None. "Yeah, next time maybe."

"Well, I'm heading out. I got an early shift in the morning," Mickey said after one of his work friends called out for him to hurry up. "We still on for our meeting tomorrow? Same coffee shop, same time?"

"I'll be there," Ian said, "though I'm not sure about Ayden. I think he might have to stay late at work."

"Oh, what a shame," Mickey said sarcastically. "His sunny persona, colorful fucking commentary, and deep insight will be truly missed."

Ian grinned in spite of himself and shook his head.

Mickey smiled back and tapped the bar twice with his knuckle. "See ya, Red." He held Ian's gaze for a few beats longer than he should have and then turned to go.

"Yeah, see ya," Ian said. He didn't go back to his clean up until Mickey had rounded the corner and was out of sight.

* * *

Mickey entered his apartment and found that Mandy had already retired to her bedroom for the night, which wasn't surprising considering it was already after two in the morning.

He toed off his shoes and stripped off his shirt as he headed into his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

For a split second, he regretted not taking that guy Keith up on his offer to fuck. Sure the guy wasn't the best looking, but everyone looked and felt the same in the dark…for the most part.

Mickey stripped down to his boxers and crawled into his messy queen-sized bed, completely exhausted, a little drunk, and slightly sore.

And really fucking horny.

He sighed and tried to get comfortable, tried to think about anything other than his semi-hard cock and just doze off, but his dick had other plans.

"Fuck it," Mickey grumbled into the dark and reached inside his boxers, palming his dick. He moaned and bit his bottom lip as he worked his hand on himself, twisting his wrist and rounding his thumb over the head, knowing it wasn't going to take much.

He stroked his cock with one hand and reached to shallowly finger himself with the other, his back arching off the bed as his orgasm crept up on him. He couldn't even deny the fact that—as he groaned and came hard into his fist minutes later—Ian Gallagher's face was what had gotten him there.

* * *

Ian slipped into the dark, quiet penthouse a little after two AM, completely exhausted and spent. He lazily toed his shoes off and laid them neatly next to the door just as Ayden liked. He dropped his duffel bag on the couch and made his way into the spacious, fully equipped kitchen. He grabbed a carton of leftover Chinese food from the fridge and sat down at the counter island, not even bothering to heat the food up before digging into it eagerly. His eyes were starting to droop as he chewed.

Ayden shuffled out of the bedroom and regarded Ian disdainfully as he rubbed at his eye. "You want to be any louder? I was sleeping and now I'm wide awake, which is nice because I have a meeting in a few hours."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be loud," Ian said around his mouthful of food, fully awake now.

Ayden sighed heavily as he walked to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of Evian. He took a swig as he eyed Ian, his posture seeming to soften a bit. "Why do you eat that shit, Ian? Do you know how much sodium is in that stuff? It's going to kill you one day."

Ian shoveled a huge forkful of General Tso's into his mouth defiantly and chewed with an arched eyebrow, daring Ayden to continue.

Ayden could only roll his eyes at his unyielding fiancé . "So, how was work?" he asked.

Ian shrugged, deciding to leave out the part about Mickey showing up with his friends. He didn't want Ayden getting any ideas, especially considering Ayden hated Mickey to begin with. "It was okay…busy. I had to kick Gage out again, made some decent tips."

"I'm sure you did, dressing like that," Ayden said, slapping Ian on his bare thigh with the back of his hand. "I really wish you would think about getting another job."

"Why's that?" Ian asked with a tilt of his chin, not in the mood to argue about this topic yet again. "Because it's not a good environment for me, or because it looks bad on you?"

Ayden sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Come on, Ian. I'm just saying the place is a shithole."

"Yeah, well, I like that shithole," Ian shot back. "I have friends there and the money's good. Why don't you just say what you really mean? You don't want your soon-to-be husband dressing like a slut and tending bar at a raunchy gay bar because it looks bad on you and your flawless reputation."

Ayden continued on as if he hadn't even heard a word Ian said. "I told you they're looking for a receptionist where I work. It's good money, has benefits, you'd get medical insurance—"

"I don't want it," Ian interrupted flatly. "I told you already…I don't want to work some lame, boring ass desk job. I'm happy where I am. I'm staying where I am."

"Look how you're dressed, Ian. Don't you find it all a little degrading? Embarrassing?"

"Don't you think you're being a little bit of an asshole?"

Ayden sighed and leaned against the counter. A brief silence ensued before he continued. "I told you before that you don't even have to work at all. I have more than enough money."

"And be your little stay-at-home trophy husband? Not gonna happen," Ian snapped irritably.

Ayden took another swig of his water, rolling his eyes as he did so. "Fine. Whatever. I don't want to fight with you about this right now, it's late."

"So then why'd you bring it up when you know how I feel about it?" Ian asked, his voice wavering slightly despite his attempts to keep it steady.

"Because I thought you were capable of actually having a mature, adult conversation! Silly me," Ayden said surly, dumping his empty bottle into the recycling bin underneath the sink. "I'm heading back to bed to try to get some sleep. You coming?"

"I'll be there in a minute," Ian mumbled and stared down glumly at his leftovers.

"Wipe that stupid shit off your face before you come in. The last thing I need is eyeliner crap staining my two hundred dollar pillowcases," Ayden said before disappearing into the master bedroom.

Ian got up from his stool and dumped his food into the trash, no longer hungry. He gripped the edge of the counter and hung his head, breathing in deep a few times and getting himself together before heading to the bathroom to wash off his face, all the while blinking back the bitter tears that he refused to let spill.


	4. Take Me Out to the Ballgame

A week and a half later, Ian awoke to a mouth on his dick.

He opened his bleary eyes to find his fiancé's bobbing head. He groaned and closed his eyes, deciding to enjoy the moment. Shortly after Ian came, Ayden broke the news that he had to leave town for a business trip to Pittsburgh. Ian should have known something was up, considering Ayden was never spontaneous like that unless he was about to deliver bad news.

Ian sat oddly on the edge of the king-sized bed and watched as Ayden neatly folded his clothes and placed them carefully inside his luggage. It took all of the willpower Ian had in himself to not lean over and grab the perfectly folded clothes out of the Burberry luggage and throw everything carelessly on the floor. Ayden's analness really was fucking ridiculous sometimes.

"How can they just spring this trip on you last minute like this?"

"They can do whatever they want, Ian. I work for them, not the other way around. I don't know what you want me to tell you here. I don't have a choice in this, you know that."

"I know you don't, but a little warning would have been nice. What if we had something planned this weekend that had to do with our wedding? They can't just expect you to just drop everything at the last fucking minute and go."

"Well, considering they're the ones paying for this beautiful penthouse you're living in, those nice clothes you're wearing, and the expensive cologne you have on, they can expect whatever they want from me," Ayden said dryly.

Ian puffed out his cheeks, shook his head and looked away, wondering why he even bothered arguing with the other man. He could never win.

Ayden sighed and leaned down. "You're being dramatic," he said before pressing a kiss to the top of Ian's head, "but what else is new, right?"

Ian didn't answer, just watched as Ayden methodically continued to pack.

"I'll only be gone until tomorrow night," Ayden continued. "I'm sure you can find something to keep yourself busy until then. Maybe you can pick up an extra shift at the club, maybe do some running? You can work off some of those calories from that pizza you scarfed down last night."

Ian sighed dejectedly and watched as Ayden finally zipped up his luggage. He got up and followed Ayden to the door.

Ayden put on his jacket and then turned to Ian, giving him a sympathetic smirk. "You're cute, you know that," he said, reaching out to flick Ian's bottom lip with his thumb. "I'll be back tomorrow night." He leaned in and kissed Ian sweetly on the mouth.

Ian grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and attempted to deepen the kiss, but found Ayden pulling away only a few moments later.

"Come on, Ian, I'm going to miss my flight. I don't have time for this, I'm running late enough as it is." He kissed Ian quickly on the forehead and turned to open the door. "We'll kiss all you want when I get back. Love you."

"You too," Ian said. He forced a small smile and watched as Ayden walked out the door without another word. He ran a hand through his toussled hair, and then turned around to eye the now empty penthouse, wondering how he was going to keep himself preoccupied for the day.

Ian walked over to the plush white couch and plopped down on it as he scrolled through his phone. After checking his Twitter and Facebook, he began scrolling through his contacts. Without really thinking about it—and even though he had a dozen other friends he could have easily called to hang out with—he stopped on Mickey's name. He thought about it for only a few seconds before pressing the call button.

After a few rings, Mickey answered, his voice sounding husky from sleep. "What?"

"Hey…is this a bad time?" Ian asked, smiling in spite of himself at Mickey's grumpy tone.

"Gallagher?" Mickey asked hoarsely after a short pause.

"Shit, sorry. Is this stepping over some sort of line? Should I not have called you? This is definitely stepping over a line, isn't it?" Ian rambled, suddenly wondering what the hell he was doing. He had Mickey's number for strictly professional, wedding planning purposes only.

"Nah, man, no. It's cool," Mickey said gruffly. "I just woke up. What's up? Got some wedding shit you wanna talk about or something?"

Ian knew the next words out of his mouth were definitely, absolutely, one-hundred-and-ten percent stepping over some sort of line, but he said the words anyway. "Calling to see if maybe you wanted to hang out today?"

After their second meeting at the coffee shop the week before, Ian couldn't seem to stop thinking about Mickey. He had had a good time with him; laughing and joking over overly-sweet coffee and scones. They had barely even talked about the wedding—despite that being the sole purpose of the meeting—and Ian didn't even want to think about what that meant. But he had enjoyed himself and definitely wanted to hang out with Mickey more…in a strictly platonic way, of course.

"You wanna hang out?" Mickey asked, sounding confused. "Today?"

"Yeah," Ian said, trying to decide if he heard doubt in Mickey's voice or not. "I mean, unless you're busy. You can say no if you want, I'll completely understand. It's just that Ayden left for a business trip for the weekend and I have nothing to do all day. I don't have to be at the club until ten, and I remember you telling me at the coffee shop that you have Saturdays off, so," Ian paused, a little breathless, "and you know you can stop me here at any point and tell me to fuck off if you want."

Mickey laughed into the phone. "Nah, man. I wanted to see how long it would take for you to shut the hell up."

Ian smiled against the receiver. "So, what do you say?"

"Uh, well, actually…a buddy of mine at the diner gave me two tickets to the Sox game tonight. I wasn't gonna go, but—"

"I love baseball," Ian cut in, perhaps a little too quickly.

"Yeah?" Mickey asked. "You wanna go?"

"Yeah," Ian said, still smiling like an idiot. "Yeah, I wanna go."

"Well, shoot me a text with your address. I can pick you up around two."

"I'll be ready," Ian said.

After saying their goodbyes, Ian stood up and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. He hesitated briefly as he caught sight of a picture of Ayden and himself sitting on a bookshelf, looking happy and in love in the very early stages of their relationship. The smile slipped from Ian's face. He shook the guilty feeling off and went to get ready.

After all, there was nothing to feel guilty about. He was just going to a baseball game with a friend.

* * *

"Who was that?" Mandy asked from the couch as she painted her toenails.

"Uh, just a buddy from work," Mickey answered as he continued staring blankly down at his phone, knowing that Mandy would only give him hell if she knew who he had really been talking to on the phone.

"Which buddy from work?"

"None of your goddamn business, that's who," Mickey snipped. "Why the fuck do you gotta know who?"

"Just curious, ass face. Was it Jermaine? You finally decide to make his day and let him touch your dick? You know he wants to."

"It wasn't fuckin' Jermaine, Jesus," Mickey spat before heading towards the bathroom, intent on taking a shower.

He was still frowning a little as he undressed, still a little shocked that Ian had called to hang out. He knew it was a terrible fucking idea and could only lead to bad things; yet he still took a shower, put on decent clothes, splashed on some cologne, and was out the door at a quarter 'til two to pick Ian up.

* * *

Mickey sat parked in front of the luxury high-rise, feeling even smaller and even more insignificant than he usually did. He looked away and shook his head curtly with a wry laugh. Of fucking course someone like Ayden would live in a place like that.

Mickey then, in the back of his mind, couldn't help but wonder why the fuck someone like Ian Gallagher—who obviously lived in the lap of luxury—would want anything to do with someone like him…a lowlife thug from the South Side of Chicago.

He was definitely beginning to see exactly what Ian saw in Ayden, that was for damn sure. He then, in the deep recesses of his mind, knew he would never be able to offer Ian anything even remotely close to this, which made Ian seem even more unattainable than ever.

Mickey quickly squashed that train of thought, because this wasn't about that. They were just friends, nothing more. They would never be anything more. He had to remember that.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Mickey turned his head to find Ian exiting the building, stopping to chat cheerfully with the elderly doorman as he did so.

Mickey didn't realize it at first, but he was smiling just looking at Ian, who was throwing his head back laughing and talking animatedly with his hands. The guy really liked to talk, didn't he?

Finally, Ian made his way to Mickey's beat up Honda Accord and got in, his face split in a wide grin. "What's up, Mick?"

Mickey just eyed Ian up and down, taking in his White Sox jersey and White Sox beanie hat with a fucking poof at the top, complete with a gigantic black, white, and silver foam finger.

"Are you fuckin' serious right now? You're that guy?"

"What?" Ian asked with a shrug. "I told you I like baseball."

Mickey just continued staring at him as he restarted the car and shifted gears. "You're fuckin' embarrassing, you know that?"

Ian just laughed and bopped Mickey on the nose with his foam finger.

Mickey couldn't help but laugh with Ian as they drove off.

* * *

After parking and weaving their way through the swarming crowd, they found their seats up in peanut heaven and sat down.

"You hungry?" Mickey asked, wanting to get food before the first inning started.

"I can always eat," Ian said as he looked around, taking everything in.

"Wait here, I'll go get us some food."

Twenty minutes later, Mickey returned to his seat, grumpy and irritated as all hell after having to deal with the long ass lines and the less-than-pleasant crowd. Of fucking course he had already missed the top half of the inning.

Ian looked up upon Mickey's return, a grin plastered on his face. "You missed it! We're already up by two runs! Jennings hit a double out in right field!"

Mickey shot him a perturbed look as he handed Ian a hot dog with the works and a large soda. "You don't fuckin' say?"

"Thanks, man. Ah, this looks so fucking good. I'm starving," Ian said as he grabbed the messy hot dog and took a giant bite. "Oh, so good!" he practically moaned through his mouthful of food. "Nothin' like a ballpark wiener."

As Mickey watched Ian, his irritation began to dissipate. Before he knew it, he was smiling again in spite of himself. "You're a fuckin' mess, dude. You got fucking ketchup all over your face. You're like a goddamn child."

"I can't help it," Ian said as he wiped at his mouth with a napkin. He watched as Mickey bent over a little, still laughing. "You should laugh more, you know. It looks good on you."

Mickey's laughter softened up a little and he caught Ian's eyes with his own. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "You flirtin' with me, Gallagher?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Ian said before taking another massive bite from his hot dog, his eyes locked with Mickey's.

"Aye, man, don't look at me like that with your mouth around a hot dog. I might get the wrong idea," Mickey joked.

Ian snorted through his mouthful of food, almost choking but quickly composing himself.

"Asshole," Mickey said in amusement as he took a sip of his soda, still chortling.

"Anyway," Ian continued after his own laughter died down. "Ayden doesn't really let me eat shit like this when we're out. It's always organic hot dogs, with organic ketchup, on organic buns, on recyclable plates…"

"What do you mean he doesn't let you? The hell kinda shit is that?" Mickey asked before he took a bite of his own hot dog, watching Ian with a raised eyebrow.

Ian shrugged as he looked out towards the field, his eyes squinting in the sun. "I just mean I usually stick to the safe options, so I don't hear him complain. He's a big health food junkie. He can get pretty intense about it sometimes."

Mickey continued watching him, wanting so badly to ask Ian what the fuck he was doing with the guy, but he refrained. It wouldn't be very wedding plannery of him.

They watched the game in amicable silence for a little while before Ian spoke again. "I can't even remember the last time I've been to a game. Probably when I was about fifteen with my older brother Lip. Ayden doesn't really like doing this type of shit. His idea of fun is going to the museum or to art exhibits or cocktail parties…you know…fancy, boring shit."

Mickey leaned forward in his seat a little and wiped at the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. "Does he ever do anything you like to do?"

Ian shrugged his shoulders as he continued watching the game and sipping his soda. "Not really. I mean, I can't really blame him, though. He never really has much time. He's always working. When he's not working, he's at the gym; when he's not at the gym, he's sleeping. But I'm used to it, you know? We make it work. We have to."

Mickey watched Ian, taking in his profile, thinking not for the first time that day that the guy was prettier than any guy had a right to be. "He should take you out more. You deserve that, you know? You deserve a guy who appreciates you and does shit you like." Mickey immediately stopped talking and scrubbed a hand over his face. He suddenly wished he had a filter for his fucking mouth.

Ian turned his head and looked at Mickey, their eyes catching for a few heartbeats. He laughed lightly with a shrug of his shoulders. "He appreciates me. He just has his own way of showing it. His way of showing it is buying me nice things, taking me to nice dinners. I mean, I can't really complain, can I?"

Mickey tore his eyes away from Ian's and sipped at his drink, his earlier thoughts about never being good enough for Ian eating away at him again.

"God, I probably sound like such a fuckin' gold digger right now, don't I?"

"Nah, man," Mickey said, leaning back in his seat as he pretended to focus his attention on the game. "There's nothing wrong with liking nice things."

Suddenly, the home team hit a grand slam against the visiting team, and Ian stood up and waved his giant foam finger around excitedly as he jumped up and down, hitting Mickey in the face a few times. Mickey sat there grumpily, but didn't complain.

There was a break between innings and everyone around them started to get up from their seats to make their way to the concession stands. Cheesy pop music began playing over the loud speakers, and then suddenly the Kiss Cam sprang to life on the Jumbotron.

Ian laughed as he watched unsuspecting couples getting caught and coaxed into kissing. "So fucking embarrassing."

Mickey watched Ian, liking how giddy Ian got over the simplest things. He couldn't help but feel a bit angry at Ayden for not really knowing exactly what he had. How could Ayden not want to take Ian to baseball games and see him laugh like that?

"Oh shit, Mickey! Look!" Ian said, reaching over to grab Mickey's forearm. "We're on the fucking Kiss Cam! How fuckin' cool is that?"

"What?" Mickey asked dazedly, shaking free from his reverie to look towards the Jumbotron. "The fuck? How the fuck do they even know that we're a couple? I mean…fuck, you know what I mean, that we're gay?"

'This Kiss' by Faith Hill began playing as the screen continued focusing on Ian and Mickey with a cartoon heart bordering around them. All the crowd saw was Ian grinning like an idiot, and Mickey waving his hands around and squirming in his seat as he complained, a few choice swear words forming on his lips.

"Come on, let's just do it! It'll be fun!" Ian said, suddenly turning in his seat before Mickey could protest. Without hesitation, he cupped Mickey's face in his hands and leaned in, kissing Mickey quickly and softly on the lips.

Mickey sat frozen, staring blankly as Ian pulled back and laughed, focusing his eyes back up on the Jumbotron that was now featuring a new couple that were being put on the spot.

Ian was sitting there, laughing and acting as if nothing had happened at all; while Mickey sat there, his heart hammering in his chest, his whole world tipped slightly off its axis because of a simple little kiss.

* * *

After the game, Ian and Mickey made their way to the car, both of them munching on cotton candy as they walked.

"Man, if Ayden could see me now," Ian said as he took another huge bite of the pink spun sugar. "He'd flip his shit."

"So, did you have fun today?" Mickey asked after they had reached the car and began the long boring task of sitting in traffic.

"I did," Ian said, smiling at him. "I had a lot of fun. I honestly can't even remember the last time I had this much fun. We should definitely do it again."

"Ah, but a little over a month from now, you'll be a married man. Don't think your husband will be too keen on you hangin' out with me."

"That sounds so fuckin' weird," Ian said thoughtfully as he stared out the window. "My husband. Up until two months ago, I never even thought about marriage. Never thought I'd be someone's fucking husband."

Mickey swallowed the lump in his throat as he focused his attention on the road and gripped the steering wheel tighter. "You do, though, right?" he found himself asking against his better judgment. "You wanna marry him?"

Ian looked at him, opening his mouth once and then twice, nothing coming out. Finally, he said, "Yeah, I mean, I wouldn't have said yes if I didn't."

"Right. Dumb fuckin' question," Mickey said dully as he reached forward and fumbled with the air-conditioning knob.

The rest of the fifteen-minute ride home was filled with awkward silence.

* * *

"Well, thanks again," Ian said once they were parked in front of his place. "I really did have a lot of fun today."

"Yeah, me too."

"When will I see you again?" Ian asked, his hand on the door handle. "I mean, you know, when's our next meeting gonna be?"

"I'll shoot you a text, we'll figure something out."

Ian nodded and seemed to hesitate for a moment before getting out of the car. "See ya, Mickey."

"See ya, Gallagher," Mickey said, and then watched as Ian shut the door and jogged his way across the street. He watched until Ian was safely inside the building before finally pulling out.

He knew that spending the day with Ian would bring nothing but trouble.

Now, he was in even deeper than he had been before.

* * *

Once Ian was inside the penthouse, he removed his hat and tossed his foam finger next to the door. He made his way to the bathroom, stripping his jersey and jeans off as he did so.

He started the shower, making sure the water was nice and hot, and then got in. He groaned as the hot spray rained over him, feeling so fucking good.

He closed his eyes and thought about his day with Mickey. He had been honest when he said he couldn't remember the last time he'd had that much fun. He loved being around Mickey. He felt like he could actually be his true self around the guy, and he found himself laughing more than he had in a long ass time.

He also liked how Mickey laughed and smiled and how he got grumpy over the simplest things. He then thought about their little impromptu kiss, and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't felt something when their lips touched.

But he couldn't admit that to himself. He had to shove those thoughts down because they didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything. It was just a simple, stupid kiss for the sake of the Kiss Cam.

Ian knew, in the back of his mind, that if he admitted to himself that the kiss had meant more to him than it should have, then he would be forced to distance himself from Mickey; and he just wasn't ready to do that yet.

* * *

Mickey walked into his apartment to find his sister leaning against the counter island with takeout cartons of Thai food and a magazine spread out in front of her.

"Hey, you hungry?" Mandy asked without even bothering to look up. "I have plenty of food here. I got those vegetable eggrolls you like."

"Nah, I ate at the game," Mickey said absentmindedly as he tossed his keys on the counter and walked to the fridge to grab a beer.

"Did our team win?" Mandy asked, not even pretending to know what the team's name was.

Mickey took his beer, brought it to his lips and froze without taking a sip, Mandy's question not even registering in his head. After a pause, he said, "I think I fucked up."

Mandy finally glanced up from her magazine. "What do you mean you fucked up? What did you do? Mickey, what did you do?"

Mickey sighed and leaned against the counter opposite her. "You know that buddy I took to the game today?"

"Yeah," Mandy said slowly.

"It was Ian."

"Mickey," Mandy chastised.

"I know, okay! I fuckin' know," Mickey said, running a hand down his face. "I know it was a stupid fucking idea, and it never should have happened, but, fuck…I like the guy, Mands. I really fucking like the guy."

"I fucking knew it!" Mandy said, slapping her palm on the counter. "I knew it, Mickey. Christ, the guy's getting married in a month and a half. You're his fucking wedding planner, for fuck's sake!"

"You don't think I fucking know that?" Mickey exclaimed. "You think I like being in this situation? I can't get the fucking guy outta my head, and I've only known him for two fuckin' weeks. It doesn't make any goddamn sense."

"Well, what the fuck are you going to do about it?"

"I don't fucking know!"

"You need to tell him the truth, Mickey, and you need to drop him. You need to cut all ties with him. Give him a chance to find an actual fucking wedding planner, and stop fucking around with this guy's life."

Mickey sighed and shook his head. "I can't do that. I can't tell him, not now. Besides, nothing is going to happen. He's totally into this fucking Ayden asshole for some reason."

"Well, yeah, I would fucking think so!" Mandy snapped, running a hand through her hair and shaking her head. "How you get yourself into these fucking situations, Mick, I'll never know."

Mickey just scrubbed a hand down his face, knowing that she was justified in her outburst.

"What if I fix you up with someone? Try to get your mind off this guy?" On Mickey's apprehensive look, Mandy continued. "I know a guy; he's a cousin of one of my past clients. He's a fucking cool ass dude and he's cute as hell. You'll like him. Even if you don't like him, fuck him a few times and get the fuck over this Ian guy asap."

Mickey thought about it and reluctantly nodded his head. "Fine, yeah, whatever. It's worth a fucking shot. I gotta do something before things get even more fucked up."

"Goddamn right you do," Mandy said, reaching for her phone. "Of all the idiotic, asinine things you've ever fucking done…" Her voice trailed off as she continued to shake her head.

Mickey took a sip of his beer and watched as Mandy began furiously texting.

Still, even after everything that had just been said, his mind wandered back to Ian.


	5. Best Way to Get Over is to Get Under

The next morning, Mickey looked up from his spot at Mandy's desk to find his sister making her way to the fridge, wearing nothing but an old, worn Aerosmith t-shirt and panties. She didn't even bother looking his way, or tossing out her usual sarcastic greeting. He could tell she was still pissed the fuck off.

"Aye."

"Hey," Mandy said flatly, almost inaudibly, as she pulled out a carton of eggs and some vegetables from the fridge to make an omelet.

"So, I take it you're still pissed at me, huh?"

Mandy slammed the carton of eggs down on the counter suddenly—probably breaking all of the eggs in the process—and turned to fix the meanest glare she could muster on him.

"Yes, I'm pissed off! Not only are you fucking with someone else's life here, but you're fucking with my business, Mickey. I worked hard as hell to get where I am, and I'll be fucking damned if I sit back and let you ruin it all because you have some stupid fucking crush on—"

"Whoa, hey! Hold the fuck up! How am I fucking with your business?" Mickey interrupted sharply.

"Ian met you at my office. You're my brother. Unlike you, I'm an actual fucking wedding planner. If shit like this gets around—"

"It's not going to get around okay, fuck," Mickey said irritably. "I'm shuttin' this shit down before it goes any further. I'm going out with that guy you know tonight, and I'm getting Ian Gallagher the fuck out of my head. You don't have anything to worry about, alright? Jesus."

Mandy seemed to relax a little at that. She sighed and ran a hand through her long, messy hair. "What are you even doing right now? You know I don't like when you sit at my desk. You always fuck shit up."

"I'm trying to actually do some of this fuckin' wedding planning bullshit," Mickey said as he stared down at the notes in front of him and waved his hands around irritably. "I figure if I'm going to act like a wedding planner, I might as well do the fucking work. The quicker I get this wedding done and over with, the quicker I can move the hell on, and the sooner things can go back to fuckin' normal."

Mandy walked over to him and sat down in the empty chair next to him. "Need some help? You know, from someone who actually knows what the fuck they're doing?"

"Shit yeah, I do," Mickey said. He rubbed a hand over his face. "I gotta give you more credit, Mands. This wedding planning shit isn't as easy as it looks."

"No shit, Sherlock." Mandy smiled gingerly, and then scooted closer to peer down at his notes as she propped her chin on his shoulder. "Wow, this Ian guy really seems to know what he wants, huh?"

"Yeah," Mickey said gruffly, "unfortunately."

Mandy looked at Mickey and regarded his forlorn expression. Her previously tense demeanor completely softened when she realized that her brother was having a much harder time with the situation than he was probably letting on. She was surprised. She couldn't remember a time when he had gotten so worked up over someone.

"I'm sorry, Mick. I know this can't be easy for you, planning the wedding of the guy you have a thing for."

Mickey sighed and dropped his pen. "Yeah, but I need to get the fuck over it and quick, don't I?"

"Yeah," Mandy said, patting him on the knee. "You kinda do. You'll only get hurt if you don't. You hungry?"

"Nah, I ate already." Mickey watched as Mandy stood up to resume her omelet making.

He looked back down at his notes—at everything Ian had planned for his and Ayden's Big Day—and he wondered how the fuck he was going to be able to go through with any of it.

* * *

Ian stared at his phone, gnawing on his bottom lip and contemplating calling Mickey for the third time since he'd woken up twenty minutes ago. He groaned and ran a hand down his face before throwing his phone towards the end of the bed.

He buried his face in his hands and silently chastised himself.

What the fuck was he doing? His last thought before going to sleep the night before was about Mickey. His first thought waking up this morning was about Mickey. He was even pretty fucking sure he had dreamed about his wedding planner. Now he was actually contemplating calling the guy and asking him to spend the day with him for the second day in a row?

He seriously needed to get a fucking grip.

Ian pulled his hands away from his face, and thought about his next move for a few heartbeats before sitting up and reaching for his phone again. He rested back against the plush pillows, got comfortable, and dialed the familiar number.

After a few rings, a deep, groggy voice answered. "Hello?"

"I miss you," Ian practically purred into the phone.

"Ian?" Ayden said on the other end. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong," Ian said, resisting the strong urge to roll his eyes. "Can't a guy just call and tell his incredibly sexy fiancé that he misses him?"

The other end was silent for a few moments before Ayden spoke. "Of course you can," he said, his voice sounding softer, "and I miss you, too."

Ian bit his lower lip and arched a little as he kicked the sheets that were tangled around his legs away. "I wish you were here right now," he said huskily as he trailed his hand down over his abs, and then began palming his dick through his silk boxers.

"Ian," Ayden said, sounding doubtful. "What are you doing?"

"Touching my cock," Ian said as he pulled his dick out and began stroking it with slow, long strokes. "Wishin' you were here to do it for me," he murmured as he closed his eyes and moaned.

"Christ, Ian. I just woke up. You could at least give me a little time to wake up before throwing this at me," Ayden said, even though there was no edge to his tone.

Ian knew by the other man's labored breathing that he had Ayden's attention. "Tell me what you'd do to me if you were here," he demanded as he rounded the sensitive head of his cock with his thumb.

"You know I'm not the best at dirty talk," Ayden said.

"Just tell me," Ian rasped, fighting his irritation. "Tell me how you'd suck me off."

He could hear Ayden's breath hitch and knew the other man was now touching himself.

"You're going to be the death of me, Ian, I swear to God," Ayden muttered.

Ian quickened his strokes, knowing it wasn't going to take long for him to come, considering he had been half-hard from his dreams already. He arched his back and was about to open his mouth to continue the dirty talk—since Ayden didn't seem to want to put up much on his end—but he was abruptly cut off.

"Shit, Ian…I have a call on the other line. I have to take it. I'm sorry."

Ian stopped stroking his dick and came crashing back to reality. "Are you fuckin' kidding me right now?"

"I have to take it, it could be my boss. It's probably important."

"More important than your fucking fiancé?" Ian asked, his tone hard. Once again, work came first. Work would always come first.

"Can we not argue about this again right now?"

Ian was seething with anger. "Sure, we'll argue about it later…on your terms, as usual."

Ayden just sighed. "I'm sorry, okay? Quit being dramatic. I'll call you as soon as I'm finished with this call. I promise."

"Don't fuckin' bother," Ian retorted before hanging up on him. He stared at his phone, half-expecting Ayden to call him right back to resolve things. He didn't.

Ian stewed in his anger for a few moments longer. "Fuck it," he muttered before angrily scrolling to Mickey's name in his phone and hitting the call button.

Mickey picked up on the second ring. "Yeah?"

"Hey, it's Ian," Ian said, instantly feeling his anger dissipate at the mere sound of Mickey's voice. He didn't want to think too much about why that was.

There was a short pause on the other end, and then a gruff, "Hey."

If Ian didn't know any better, he would say that Mickey sounded a little off. He suddenly wished he hadn't called. Mickey probably thought he was some sort of fucking psycho stalker idiot. "Um, did I catch you at a bad time?"

"Kinda, yeah," Mickey said. "I was just finishing up some shit for your wedding, ordered some samples and shit. Then, uh…then I gotta get ready for this thing I have tonight."

"A thing, huh?" Ian asked as he reclined back against the pillows to get more comfortable. "What kinda thing?"

There was awkward silence for a handful of seconds before Mickey answered. "Goin' on a date."

Ian had been lazily feathering his fingertips over his lower stomach. His fingers stilled and his stomach sank at Mickey's words. "A date, huh?" he asked throatily.

"Yeah," Mickey answered. "Some guy my sister's fixin' me up with, says he's supposed to be really fuckin' hot. I don't know, we'll see. She usually has piss-poor taste in dudes, so who knows what the fuck he looks like."

"Oh," Ian said, trying to keep his voice steady; trying to pretend he wasn't nearly as affected by this information as he was. "Well, who knows, maybe you'll finally get to stick your dick in someone."

"Well, technically, it would be the other way around…but yeah, that's what I'm hopin' for."

Ian was left dumbfounded, wondering if Mickey meant what Ian thought he meant. Mickey was a bottom? He definitely didn't seem like he'd be a bottom. If Ian had been intrigued by Mickey before, this new piece of information just multiplied the intrigue tenfold.

"So, uh, listen," Mickey continued. "I'm gonna go. Have to go get ready and all that good shit."

"Yeah, okay," Ian said numbly, and then added without thinking, "Well, if you want, maybe bring your date to the bar later. I'll be there at ten. I'll give you a couple drinks on the house, size him up for ya."

"Yeah, man, maybe. We'll see how it goes."

"Okay," Ian said.

After saying their goodbyes, Ian rested back against the pillows and mindlessly tossed his phone back and forth between his hands, wondering where his morning had gone so fucking wrong.

* * *

The guy was fucking hot, Mickey gave Mandy that much. The conversation could use a little work, though, considering all the guy talked about was music and sports—two things Mickey didn't really give a shit about—but as long as the guy was a good fuck, Mickey figured he could deal with it.

They had dinner at an Italian restaurant and decided to split the bill, both agreeing that they didn't believe in the traditional bullshit ways of dating. They caught a good ass action flick at the movies, and then they found themselves standing idly outside of the theater when it was over, neither one of them knowing how to go about progressing the evening.

Mickey knew deep down that he should just skip right to it and ask the guy to come back to his place to fuck—considering the guy had been giving Mickey the fuck-me eyes ever since their appetizers hit the table three hours ago—but he found himself asking instead, "You wanna go get a couple drinks?"

So, twenty minutes later, Mickey and his new friend Keegan found themselves at the Fairy Tail.

It was a Sunday night, so the crowd was mild and they easily found two open stools at the bar.

As soon as Mickey sat down, he scanned his eyes behind the bar, not seeing Ian at first glance. He silently scolded himself for even feeling disappointed, and remained determined to focus on his date. That's what this whole night was supposed to be about…Mickey fucking someone else and forgetting about Ian.

"So, this place seems pretty cool. Do you come here a lot?" Keegan asked as he sipped his vodka tonic and looked around.

Mickey took a sip of his beer as he eyed the other man. He really was fucking hot…with brown grabbable hair, big blue eyes, and fuckable-looking lips. Mandy really hadn't been lying.

"Nah, man, my second time here."

"Cool. Cool." Keegan nodded and looked around, taking in his surroundings when the conversation lagged.

Just as Mickey was struggling to come up with something else to say, he was interrupted.

"Hey."

Mickey's head shot up to find Ian now standing in front of them behind the bar. The cheesy grin Ian usually greeted Mickey with was missing as his eyes flickered back and forth between Mickey and his date.

"Hey," Mickey answered back, swallowing the sudden lump that had formed in his throat. He once again wondered what the fuck he was doing there. He was supposed to be trying to get his mind off of Ian. That certainly wasn't going to fucking happen by showing up at the guy's work.

And why the hell did Ian have to look so fucking good? Suddenly, Keegan seemed almost ordinary in comparison.

Mickey really shouldn't have fucking come here.

"So, are you gonna introduce me to your friend?" Ian asked, seemingly cool, calm, and collected as he began mixing a drink for another customer a few seats down.

"Uh, yeah, this is Keegan…Keegan, this is Ian," Mickey said, introducing the two with a wave of his hand.

Keegan reached forward with a kind smile to shake Ian's hand. "Nice to meet you, Ian. Are the two of you friends or—?"

"Yeah, friends," Mickey answered quickly, all the while watching as Ian dipped his head, his expression unreadable. Something seemed off with the guy. Ian wasn't his usual happy, goofy self.

"I'm gonna go hit the head," Keegan said as he stood up. "I'll be right back."

Mickey watched as Keegan walked away before looking back at Ian, who was now watching him, the same unreadable expression on his face.

"He's adorable," Ian said monotonously as he shook the cocktail shaker vigorously.

"Definitely fuckable," Mickey said, watching as Ian's jaw flexed a little as he poured the shots. "Aye, everything okay with you?"

"Everything's fine," Ian snipped.

Mickey smirked, dipping his head a little to try to catch Ian's eyes, but Ian seemed to be avoiding looking at him. "You have a fight with douchebag or something?"

"Nope," Ian said, tilting his chin up. "Everything's good with Ayden. In fact, he comes home tonight from his trip. You're not going to be the only one getting dick tonight."

Mickey watched as Ian sauntered off to serve his other customer their shots. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and stared at nothing in particular, smarting with jealousy at Ian's admission.

Just then, Keegan returned from the bathroom and slid back onto his stool. "So, what do you want to—" he began, but was quickly cut off.

"Come on," Mickey said, finishing off his beer in three long gulps and abruptly standing up after slamming his mug down on the bar top. "Let's fuckin' dance."

Mickey had never been much of a dancer, so when he found himself out on the dance floor, he wasn't exactly sure how to move. Keegan took care of that, though, by instantly taking charge. He wrapped a toned arm around Mickey's waist, pulled him closer, and slipped a leg between Mickey's legs and began rutting against him.

"You're so fuckin' hot, dude," Keegan murmured hotly against Mickey's ear before nipping at his earlobe. "I was wondering when we were going to quit the bullshit and get to the good stuff."

Mickey closed his eyes and tried to get lost in it all—tried to get lost in Keegan's hands on his ass, and Keegan's dick pressed against his thigh, and Keegan's breath hot on his neck.

When Mickey opened his eyes again, he looked over his date's shoulder and saw Ian standing behind the bar watching them, looking far from the carefree Ian that Mickey had been with at the baseball game just the day before. If Mickey didn't know any better, he would say that Ian looked hurt. Jealous.

Ian continued watching them, visibly swallowing as his eyes slowly trailed down their bodies and then back up again, watching as Keegan grabbed Mickey's ass and pulled him even closer.

Unable to help himself, Mickey held Ian's gaze until Ian finally tore his eyes away and turned his back.

"You wanna get out of here?" Keegan grunted into Mickey's ear. "I wanna fuck you so bad right now. You got me so fucking hard."

What Mickey truly wanted to do was walk up to that bar and see what the fuck Ian's problem was, but he knew that would be the worst move possible. He was supposed to be getting the guy out of his head, he reminded himself for the fiftieth time that night.

"Yeah," Mickey found himself saying. "Yeah. Let's get the fuck out of here." He took Keegan's hand and led his date towards the exit, doing all he could to not glance towards the bar as they left.

* * *

As soon as Ian entered the quiet penthouse after his shift, he dropped his duffel bag on the floor and headed straight for the master bedroom, tearing his shirt over his head and unbuckling his pants as he went.

Once he was naked, he crawled onto the bed and leaned down to nuzzle his sleeping fiancé awake.

Ayden sputtered and protested at first, but soon allowed Ian to take charge. "What're you doing? What time is it?" he grumbled as Ian pinned his hands down to the mattress, kissed his neck, and began slowly rutting against him.

"I don't wanna fucking talk right now," Ian rasped before crushing his lips hard against Ayden's.

Moments later, Ian was buried balls deep inside his fiancé, thrusting in and out of him roughly, angry-fucking him into the mattress and forcing Ayden to make those noises he so often held back. Ian groaned when he felt fingernails digging roughly into his lower back, a sign that Ayden was finally letting go of his inhibitions, if only for the night.

"Fuck yeah," Ian practically growled as he pounded relentlessly. "Fuck, I love it like this. I need it like this, always like this," he gasped before leaning down and kissing Ayden roughly. Just before his orgasm rolled through him, a vision of Mickey's face flashed in his mind and he came hard.

Afterwards, Ayden crawled out of bed and headed for the master bathroom to clean himself up, leaving Ian lying in the middle of the bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling, his mind on someone he had no fucking business thinking about.

* * *

As soon as they entered Mickey's apartment, the pair stumbled through the dark as Mickey led Keegan to his bedroom and kicked the door shut behind them. As he turned around to say something unimportant, Keegan's lips were already on his…hot, rough, and demanding.

Mickey groaned into the hard, devouring kiss and tore away from it only moments later. He didn't care about kissing. He'd never really been big on kissing. He wasn't here for the intimate bullshit. He just wanted to get fucked. He needed to get fucked.

Mickey peeled his shirt off and watched as Keegan did the same. He then hastily unbuckled his pants as his eyes took in Keegan's body appreciatively. Fuck, he was hot.

Once they were both naked, Mickey skipped right to it and crawled up the length of his bed; kneeling down at the headboard, ass up in the air. "Lube and condoms are in the top drawer. Let's go."

"Don't like to waste any time, do you?" Keegan rasped as he grabbed the lube and knelt behind Mickey to prepare him. Once Mickey was good to go, Keegan rolled on a condom before pressing and pushing into Mickey with a satisfied groan. "Oh shit, you feel so good, so fuckin' tight."

Mickey fisted the sheets and hung his head, trying to adjust to the burning intrusion. He hadn't gotten fucked in almost six months, so he needed some time to get used to it. After a few moments, he nodded the go-ahead and then his date began thrusting.

"Fuck, I wanted to fuck you since the moment I saw you standing outside that restaurant," Keegan said huskily.

Mickey just closed his eyes and bit his lip hard, not in the mood for conversation or dirty talk. If anything, he just wanted the other guy to shut the fuck up.

Keegan gripped Mickey's hips roughly and relentlessly pounded him.

Mickey hung his head. "Fuck," he choked out. He finally started to get lost in it, taking everything his date was giving him eagerly. The mixture of pleasure and pain was so fucking good. Fuck, he'd missed this. How did he go so fucking long without this?

"You like that," Keegan rasped as he grabbed Mickey's hair, tugging his head back. He suddenly hit that bundle of nerves inside Mickey that made Mickey's toes curl.

"Fuck yeah," Mickey groaned back. "Fuck, feels so fucking good. Shit…Ian…"

Keegan stopped his thrusting abruptly. "What the fuck?"

Mickey lifted his head; disoriented, confused, and pissed off. "Why the fuck did you stop?" he snapped breathlessly, glaring at the other man over his shoulder.

"You just called me Ian." His date pulled out of him and stood up from the bed, bending down to grab his clothes.

Mickey turned around stiffly and sat back against the headboard. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he asked as he watched his date get dressed. "I clearly fucking said Keegan."

"Trust me, you said Ian."

"Well, you fuckin' heard wrong," Mickey defended, his eyebrows shooting upwards.

Keegan sighed and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Look, man, it's cool. It's not that big of a deal. You were just a one time fuck, anyway. It's not like my feelings are hurt. Shit happens."

"So if it's not a big deal, why the hell aren't we fucking right now?" Mickey asked exasperatedly.

"The moment's gone," Keegan said, looking down at his half-flaccid cock with a shrug. As he was leaving, he looked back over his shoulder. "Ian's that redhead from the bar, right? The bartender?"

Mickey just stared back at him blankly, not daring to answer.

"I don't blame you for wanting to fuck him. The guy's smokin'."

And with that, his date left.

Mickey stared at the closed door dumbly for a long time, wondering what in the hell just happened.

Finally, he hit his head back against the headboard in aggravation and yelled, "Fuck!" In the next instant, he buried his head in his hands and breathed in and out unsteadily a few times before muttering, "Fuck."

Mickey knew he was screwed, and definitely not in the good way.


	6. Quarter For Your Thoughts

Mickey's cell phone buzzed on the coffee table, but he didn't even bother looking at the screen to see who was calling him. He already knew who it was.

It had been two days since his date from absolute hell, and he hadn't bothered taking any of Ian's calls. He knew—now more than ever—that he had to distance himself from the guy because shit was getting way too out of control.

When he couldn't even get properly fucked by someone without thinking about Ian, something was seriously fucking wrong.

He vowed from there on out to keep their relationship strictly professional…no baseball games, no hanging out at the bar, no out-of-the-blue phone calls, nothing. Just wedding bullshit, and that's it.

Mickey knew he should eventually answer the phone and actually tell Ian all of that, but he couldn't bring himself to do that just yet. He was afraid he'd go back on that plan once he heard Ian's voice.

It was a rare day that Mickey and Mandy had the day off from work together, and they planned on doing nothing but sitting around in their pajamas; eating takeout, smoking weed, and playing video games all day.

"Is that Ian again?" Mandy asked, nodding her head towards Mickey's phone, but not daring to take her eyes away from the TV.

"Yeah," Mickey answered simply as he worked the buttons on his controller vigorously, refusing to let Mandy win for the fifth time in a row. It just wasn't fucking happening.

"Are you just going to keep ignoring him? That's like the fourth time he's called today."

"Fifth, actually…and I'll answer him when I'm fuckin' ready," Mickey snipped. "Don't worry about it."

"You know he didn't do anything wrong, right? It's not his fault you have some weird, ass-backwards crush on him."

"I don't have a weird, ass-backwards crush on—" Mickey began before exclaiming, "What the fuck, Mandy? So suddenly now you want me to fuckin' talk to the guy? Three days ago, you were telling me to shut this shit down."

"Yeah, but you don't have to be a complete dick about it. I still think you should talk to him, let him know he needs to get a new wedding planner as soon as possible," Mandy said, and then squealed in delight when she beat him across the finish line. "Ha! In your face, loser!"

Mickey threw his controller down on the coffee table like the sore loser he was. "Fuck you, you fuckin' cheater! You fuckin' distracted me with all your goddamn Ian talk!"

"Suck it up, bitch!" Mandy exclaimed gleefully. "You have dish duty for the next week!"

There was a knock on the door then, and a somber, grumpy Mickey got up to answer it, grabbing the money from the coffee table to pay for the food they'd ordered.

"Yeah, fuck you and your fucking dishes, bitch," he said just as he opened the door. He looked up, expecting to find an awkward, pimply teenager bearing pizza, but he found an irritated, hot as fuck Ian Gallagher instead.

Mickey was completely taken back as he stared into those intense green eyes and he had to force himself to look away. "The fuck do you want?"

"Your phone broken?" Ian asked monotonously.

"Phone's working fine," Mickey said, his voice rough around the edges. He reached up and scratched the tip of his nose with his thumb, still unable to meet Ian's eyes.

"So, what? You're just flat out ignoring me then?" Ian asked with a stiff shrug. "What kind of wedding planner ignores phone calls from their clients?"

"What kind of client invites their fuckin' wedding planner to spend the day with them while their fiancé is away?" Mickey snipped back, instantly regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

Ian looked hurt, but he quickly recovered. "Sorry, I guess I won't make that mistake again. Didn't know it was such a fucking problem."

Mickey finally looked Ian in the eyes, trying to keep a firm grasp on the situation. He just had to be strong, keep his cool, act unfazed. "How the fuck did you find out where I live?"

"Google," Ian said simply with a shrug of his shoulders.

Mickey laughed wryly, knowing that it was for the best to keep acting like an asshole. "So, you stalkin' me now?"

Ian sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No, I'm not stalking you, asshole. I just wanted to know what the fuck I did to make you ignore me all of a sudden. I mean, I thought we were friends, but maybe I was wrong?"

"We ain't friends," Mickey snipped. "You're just my client. Let's get that fucking clear."

Ian nodded stiffly, his jaw taut. "Good to know."

Mickey stared back at him, noting the dip in Ian's voice, and he suddenly felt like a grade A dick. Mandy was right, it wasn't Ian's fault that Mickey was a complete and utter fucking moron that couldn't stop thinking about and lusting over an engaged man.

Just as Ian turned to leave, Mickey said, "Aye, man, look…fuck. You—You didn't do anything wrong, alright." He rubbed at the back of his neck and stepped aside, opening the door wider to invite Ian in, feeling like it was a bad idea, but unable to stop himself. "You wanna come in? Ain't no point in standing around in the doorway."

Ian looked confused for a moment, and then curtly nodded his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I can come in for a few minutes."

Mickey instantly regretted allowing Ian to enter, suddenly remembering where and how he lived. He knew his and Mandy's apartment probably seemed like a shabby, unimpressive dump compared to the luxury living Ian was used to.

Mickey's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He hung his head and scratched at the back of his neck as Ian looked around, surveying the place.

Ian didn't say anything, though, just shoved his hands deep into his pockets and looked back at Mickey.

Mickey suddenly felt nervous under Ian's scrutiny. He then remembered the other person in the room. "Uh, Mandy…this is Ian. Ian, that's my sister Mandy."

Up until that point, Mandy had just been looking over the back of the couch curiously with an arched eyebrow, watching as the two idiots stood awkwardly facing each other. "Hi, I'm Mandy. That's me."

Ian smiled softly in kind and nodded his head in greeting. "Hey."

"Want to play me in Mario Kart?" Mandy asked, holding up the extra controller. "Maybe you can actually give me some competition, considering Mickey sucks ass and it's so easy to beat him."

"Aye, fuck you," Mickey spat, and watched as Ian walked over to the couch. He was surprised when Ian toed his shoes off and made himself right at home on the couch next to his sister.

When Ian easily beat Mandy a couple minutes later, Mickey thought maybe he liked Ian even more than before.

Christ, he was so fucking screwed.

* * *

Two hours later, after the pizza was completely devoured, and all the beer they had in the fridge was gone, Mandy stood up and stretched.

"I'm going to head to bed, I have to be up early in the morning. It was nice meeting you, Ian." She then looked at her brother, who was trying to make it seem as if he wasn't sneaking secret, admiring looks in Ian's direction as the unsuspecting redhead kept playing his video game. "Can I see you in the kitchen for a minute, bro?"

Mickey tore his eyes away from Ian, and reluctantly got up to follow his sister into the small kitchen.

"Okay, I forgot how hot this dude is and he's really fuckin' nice," Mandy said, trying to keep her voice low. "I can definitely see why you like him."

Mickey sighed and ran a hand down his face, his sister's words not helping his situation at all.

"But don't do anything stupid, do you hear me?" Mandy continued, poking him hard in the middle of his chest. "If you care about him at all, even just a little bit, don't do something to jeopardize his relationship with his guy. Don't fuck with his life. It's either you're just friends with him, or you're nothing at all. Pick one."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks for the advice, Dear Abby."

Mandy rolled her eyes and leaned forward to peck him quickly on the cheek. "Goodnight, asswipe."

Mickey stared down at the floor for a few moments before walking back to the living room after making his decision.

He stood for a moment and watched in amusement as Ian remained completely lost in his video game, his tongue adorably poking out from the corner of his mouth, and his body moving back and forth in time with the movements on the game.

Mickey decided he wanted the guy in his life…and if that meant having Ian as just a friend and never anything more, then that's just the way it was going to have to be.

"Fuck!" Ian cursed suddenly, throwing his controller down. "Fucking Bowser! Green, bulky bitch!" He looked up to find Mickey watching him, his eyebrows arched in amusement. "Sorry. Do you…do you want me to go? I can go," Ian asked, moving to stand up.

"No," Mickey said, thumbing at his lower lip. "No, I don't want you to go."

Ian nodded and sank back down on the couch.

Mickey cleared his throat and looked away. "So, uh, sorry about the mess. I know you're used to living in some fancy penthouse or whatever. If we would've known we'd have a crazy stalker dude showing up tonight, we would've straightened up a bit."

"Are you kidding me?" Ian asked incredulously. "This place feels more like home to me than that penthouse ever did." He seemed to clamp his mouth shut and he looked away, his words still hanging in the air. After a pause, he added, "It kinda reminds me of my childhood home actually."

"Where exactly are you from, Gallagher?" Mickey asked as he sat down on the couch, suddenly realizing that outside of Ian's good looks and fucking awesome personality, he didn't really know much about the guy. He found himself wanting to know more…wanting to know everything.

"Uh, I'm from here, actually," Ian answered as he scratched at his temple. "South Side, born and raised. Grew up over on North Wallace."

"No shit," Mickey exclaimed. "Wait, don't tell me you're fucking Frank Gallagher's kid?"

"Not exactly something I like admitting to, but yes. Yes, sadly I am."

"Shit, small fucking world, man. You lived like three blocks away from me."

"Oh, yeah?" On Mickey's nod, Ian said. "I thought the name sounded familiar." He rubbed his palms on his jeans before continuing. "I try to go home and visit as much as I can, but Ayden hates coming to the South Side. He avoids it at all costs. He's always so fucking paranoid someone's going to steal his car or mug him. He doesn't really like my family either. He thinks they're too wild, crazy, and loud…which is weird considering I'm just like them."

Mickey watched Ian for a moment longer, and then stood up and walked to a cupboard to pull down a half-full bottle of whiskey. He turned to Ian, holding the bottle up. "Wanna play quarters?"

"Quarters?" Ian asked, and watched as Mickey sat back down.

"Yeah, man," Mickey said as he leaned forward to the coffee table and filled up a shot glass with whiskey. He grabbed a quarter from a small pile of loose change on the end table; his and Mandy's laundry money. "It's not the traditional rules of the game, just how Mandy and I usually play it with friends. We take turns trying to bounce the quarter into the shot glass. If one of us gets it in, the other person has to take the shot and answer a question about themselves. It's really just an excuse to get drunk really fast."

"Oh," Ian said slowly. "Well…I can't really—I don't drink."

"What? Why can't you drink?" Mickey asked, realizing for the first time that Ian had been drinking juice all night.

Ian just looked back at him, his expression unreadable.

"Alright," Mickey said slowly before easily bouncing the quarter off the table and getting it into the shot glass. "You don't have to take the shot, but you have to answer the question. So…why don't you drink?"

Ian sat back against the couch and ran a hand over his hair. "I don't drink because it…it messes with my meds." On Mickey's confused look, he continued, "I'm bipolar."

"Bi…bi what? What the fuck is that?"

"Manic depression basically…high highs followed by low lows over and over. I'm on meds, so—for the most part—I'm stable for now. I just can't drink a lot, especially hard stuff, or it messes me up pretty bad."

"Shit, man," Mickey said as he regarded him, not knowing what else to say to that.

Wanting to cut the awkward tension, Ian grabbed the quarter and bounced it easily into the shot glass.

Mickey took the shot in one gulp and then looked at Ian, waiting for his question.

"How old are you?"

Mickey laughed. "Really? Out of all the things you could ask about me, that's what you wanna know? Why didn't you just ask Google."

"Hey, fuck you," Ian laughed back, resting his head back against the couch and looking impossibly cute at the moment.

Mickey had to force himself to look away. He burped crudely and said, "I'm twenty-three."

"Cool. I'm twenty-one."

"A twenty-one-year-old bartender that doesn't drink, huh?" Mickey snorted in amusement before bouncing the quarter and missing, effectively losing his turn. "Fuck."

Ian bounced the quarter and got it right in, watching as Mickey downed his shot begrudgingly.

Mickey burped again and ran an unsteady hand over his face. "This somehow doesn't seem fair. I'm the one getting shit-faced over here while you're sitting there sipping fucking grape juice."

"Chill, David Tutera, you're the one who wanted to play," Ian said with a playful grin.

"Let's say we skip the liquor for now," Mickey said, allowing himself a look in Ian's direction. His head was starting to feel fuzzy from the five beers he'd had earlier and the two shots he had just downed consecutively. He knew it was dangerous, but he slid his stare down the length of Ian's body, taking the sight of him in before forcing himself to look away, not noticing the fact that Ian had most definitely noticed the not-so-subtle eye fuck.

Mickey stood up unsteadily, needing to put some distance between himself and Ian before he did something stupid. He walked to the kitchen, grabbed a small baggie from a drawer by the stove, and resumed his place on the couch.

"You don't drink, but do you smoke?" Mickey asked as he pulled the weed out and began packing a weed bowl.

"I used to," Ian said as he sat forward to watch Mickey work. Their knees touched in the process; neither one of them moved away. "Not in about two years, though. Ayden doesn't like me doing that stuff, so I stopped. It's easier than fighting with him about it."

Mickey scoffed in spite of himself at the mention of Ayden's name.

"What?" Ian asked, bumping Mickey with his shoulder. "What was that noise about?"

"Nothing," Mickey said bitterly. "Forget it."

"No, tell me," Ian pressed on, leaning forward a little bit more.

"Nah, man," Mickey said, trying not to let his buzz get the best of him. "It wouldn't be very wedding planner of me to say."

"Say it," Ian said, his voice a little rough around the edges. "You owe me an answer to a question anyway, and that's my question. What…do you not like Ayden?"

Mickey glanced back at Ian over his shoulder, thinking to himself how fucking delectable Ian looked right then, even just wearing a simple gray t-shirt and jeans. Man, what he wouldn't give to have Ian fuck him hard into the couch.

Ian laughed and swatted the back of his hand at Mickey's arm. "Just tell me, I won't get mad." He rested back against the couch again, waiting.

"Alright," Mickey finally snipped, figuring he could blame whatever he said tonight on the alcohol tomorrow. "Sometimes I don't get what you fucking see in the guy."

Ian just stared back at Mickey; his head still resting back against the couch, his eyes intense.

Mickey wanted nothing more than to lean back the two feet that separated them and take that fucking delicious-looking bottom lip into his mouth, but he used everything in himself to hold back.

"Why's that?" Ian finally asked throatily.

Mickey took a hit from the bowl and held the smoke in his lungs, buying himself some time. He exhaled and said, "I just think you deserve better, man. You deserve someone who appreciates what they have. Someone who makes you laugh. Someone who fucking takes you to baseball games, and lets you eat the messiest fucking hot dogs, and someone who tells you how fucking amazing you—" He immediately stopped himself from going further, knowing he was crossing about a hundred different lines.

Ian leaned forward and surprised Mickey by grabbing the bowl from him and taking a deep hit. On his own exhale, he coughed roughly and said, "When I met Ayden two years ago, I was at my lowest point. I wasn't taking my meds, I was practically going bat shit crazy. I was fucking random guys in alleys without wearing condoms, I was doing hard drugs, all that shit," he paused before continuing. "I was fucked up pretty bad. And then Ayden came along out of nowhere and changed all that. He took care of me, got me to straighten my shit out, got me to start taking my meds. I owe him a lot."

"Is that why you stay with the guy?" Mickey asked with a frown, his voice uneven. "Because you think you owe him something?"

"It's not the only reason, but it's a big reason," Ian explained, holding the bowl out for Mickey to take. "He has his bad moments, I'm not going to lie. A lot of the time he infuriates the fuck out of me, pushes me past my limits, but there are times when he can be sweet as hell."

Mickey looked away and swallowed thickly, his head suddenly feeling too heavy. "Do you love him?" he asked, the alcohol and weed in his system giving him loose lips.

"Yeah," Ian answered simply after a loaded pause.

"Are you in love with him?" Mickey asked, staring down at the bowl he held idly in his hand. He could feel Ian's eyes boring into him.

"Do you ask all your clients these types of questions?" Ian asked, his voice sounding small.

Mickey looked back at Ian over his shoulder, the urge to lean back and kiss him stronger than ever now. "You gonna answer the question?"

"Nope."

Mickey laughed wryly and shook his head.

"Can I ask you something now?" Ian asked after a brief pause, his voice thick.

"Go for it. Why the fuck not."

Ian hesitated before asking, "Why were you ignoring my calls?"

Mickey hesitated, trying to choose his words carefully, not wanting to dig himself into an even bigger hole. He took another hit of his weed and held the smoke in his lungs until it burned. On his exhale, he blurted, "'Cause I like you." He reached up and rubbed at his mouth. "Fuck. I- I like you and…and I think maybe you should go now before I do something fucking stupid that I won't be able to take back." He hung his head and rubbed at the back of his neck.

Mickey knew he had completely fucked up. He wouldn't be surprised if Ian left and never looked back.

Mickey sensed movement next to him, and then Ian's hand was on Mickey's face, his thumb smoothing over Mickey's cheek. Before Mickey could even begin to process what was happening, his face was turned and Ian's lips were on his; soft and moist and undemanding.

Ian made a soft noise in the back of his throat.

Mickey reached up and touched his fingertips lightly to Ian's jaw.

Just as soon as the kiss started to deepen, Ian pulled away abruptly and stood up. "I…shit. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I don't know what I was—I'm sorry. I should go." He grabbed his shoes and headed straight for the door.

"Ian," Mickey called out as he shot to his feet to follow after him.

Ian hesitated with his hand on the doorknob, his head hanging. He sighed heavily before turning to look at Mickey. "I shouldn't be here, Mickey. I shouldn't have come here. I can't do this…I'm fucking engaged…"

"I know you are," Mickey said huskily. He ran a hand down his face and shuffled from side to side. "Look," he began after a tense pause. "I don't want you to leave like this, alright? So I have some sort of weird fucking crush on you? Who the fuck cares? It'll pass. So you pecked me on the lips? It's not a big fucking deal." He watched as Ian nodded and finally began to relax. "It's not a big deal unless we let it be, alright?"

Ian nodded as he chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes downcast. Mickey continued, "Let's just forget it even happened. You'll go home, we'll both get some sleep, and tomorrow we'll just go back to normal. We'll deal with the…with the wedding like we have been and everything will be cool. We're cool."

Ian nodded again curtly and lifted his eyes to Mickey's. His eyes then dropped to Mickey's lips. He appeared to be in a daze for a few seconds, and then he quickly looked away and reached behind himself to open the door. "Okay, I should really go now."

"Aye, we good?" Mickey asked, eyebrows arched.

"Yeah, we're good," Ian said with another curt nod of his head.

Mickey nodded and watched as Ian slipped out the door, thinking that he had royally screwed up and probably scared Ian away for good. He rested back against the door and ran a hand down his face, wanting nothing more than to open that door, pull Ian back inside, and drag him to his bedroom and not resurface until morning.

He was unaware that on the other side of the door, Ian was doing and thinking the same thing.

* * *

Ian walked into the penthouse a little while later to find Ayden sitting at his massive mahogany desk tucked in the corner of the living room. "Hey," he said warily as he toed off his shoes.

"Hey," Ayden said without bothering to look up from his work.

Ian chewed on his lower lip before walking over to the other man. He stood behind his fiancé and began massaging his tense shoulders. "You want to maybe rent a movie or something tonight? We can order some food and curl up on the couch? We don't do that much anymore," he said, desperate to get his life somewhat back on track.

When his lips had touched Mickey's earlier, it had been a much different kiss than the one at the baseball game. There was no Kiss Cam to blame it on this time. He had kissed Mickey earlier simply because he had wanted to. And he was very aware of how fucked up that was. While his soon-to-be husband was at home waiting for him, he had been sitting in his wedding planner's apartment, kissing the other man while a part of him—a big part of him—had been hoping that Mickey would invite him into his bedroom.

He had to take a step back from it all and try to make it work with Ayden, so that's what he was doing; trying to make it work, trying to get things back to the way they used to be…back when Ayden would actually look up and smile at Ian when he walked through the door, back when Ayden would jump at the idea of watching a movie together and snuggling on the couch.

"So, what do you say, huh? You, me, Van Damme, and some Thai?"

"I can't tonight," Ayden said, still not looking up. "I'm swamped with work right now. I have that huge campaign I'm working on and I'm already behind as it is. Maybe another night?" He reached up to idly pat Ian's hand that had stilled on his shoulder.

"Yeah, okay. Another time," Ian said dejectedly before turning and heading towards the bathroom to shower, not even knowing why he let himself get disappointed anymore.

Once inside the privacy of the bathroom, Ian washed his meds down and regarded his reflection wearily in the mirror for a few heartbeats before turning to start the shower. He felt the urge to jerk himself off, but thought better of it; already knowing whose face he would be thinking of as he came.

He had enough shit to deal with and feel guilty about.


	7. Sparks

Ian was having a little bit of a problem.

He couldn't stop thinking about his wedding planner.

It had been three days since he had been to Mickey's apartment. Three days since Mickey had confessed to having a small crush on him. Three days since Ian had stupidly leaned over and decided to press a kiss to those amazing fucking lips.

It had been three days, and he couldn't stop thinking about any it, no matter how hard he tried not to. He tried to keep himself busy and distracted with work, but found himself glancing up every five minutes to see if Mickey would walk through the door. He tried to get lost in his running, but every time his feet hit the pavement, he was reminded of how rapidly his heart had pounded in his chest when they had kissed.

Even as he was pounding in and out of his fiancé's ass, gripping Ayden's hips so tight, inching closer and closer to his orgasm, he was thinking about fucking someone else's perfectly plump ass. He was thinking about his bare hips slapping against—what he could only imagine to be—Mickey's perfectly thick, pale thighs.

"Yes, Ian, right there. Shit, baby. So good," Ayden cried out when Ian hit that sweet spot inside of him that made Ayden's vision double.

Ian squeezed his eyes shut, imagining that it was Mickey saying those words to him, and he suddenly froze and shuddered through his orgasm.

When he was completely spent, he pulled out and collapsed onto his back, gasping for air and running a hand over his sweaty face. He barely noticed when Ayden rolled out of bed to go clean himself up like he always did. Ayden never wanted to just lie around, didn't like to be dirty, never stayed in bed long enough to bask in the afterglow.

Ian, on the other hand, usually loved basking in the afterglow. He loved to bask in the feeling of his body coming back down from the intense high as he laid in his own sweat and come, and he loved falling blissfully asleep as he stretched out his sore limbs.

Right then, however, he couldn't think about anything else except for the crushing feeling of guilt he felt at the fact that he had just thought about another man the entire time he had been having sex with the man he was supposed to marry in a month.

If that wasn't the absolute definition of fucked up, Ian wasn't sure what was.

Ayden came sauntering back into the room a minute later, looking way too put together for someone who had just had his ass reamed. "What's gotten into you lately?" he asked as he crawled back onto the bed and settled on his back.

"What do you mean?" Ian asked as he lightly feathered his fingers over his own bare stomach.

"You just seem a lot more…needy than usual," Ayden said as he got back under the blankets.

"Needy?" Ian asked, slightly annoyed and offended by the term. "Fuck you."

"Stop being dramatic. You know what I mean…horny, riled up," Ayden explained with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Ian swallowed thickly and purposely avoided eye contact, because he knew exactly why he had been so riled up lately. "Why? Are you complaining?"

"No, not in the least," Ayden said, as he leaned over and kissed Ian's damp cheek. "Just making an observation. You just can't seem to get enough of me these days. I'm starting to have trouble keeping up." He leaned over in the other direction and turned off the bedside lamp. "I gotta get some sleep. I have an early meeting tomorrow."

Ian trailed his eyes over the curve of his fiancé's bare back. He ran a hand down his face and sighed heavily into his hand, knowing he had to do something to try to rectify the situation before it was too late.

* * *

Once Ayden was off to work the next morning, Ian plopped down on the couch and scrolled through his phone, his thumb only hesitating over Mickey's name for a few heartbeats before he pressed call.

On the third ring, Mickey answered, sounding breathless.

For a split second, Ian was overcome with indescribable jealousy at the sound of Mickey's heavy breathing, wondering if he had called Mickey at the worst possible time. He definitely didn't want to hear Mickey being fucked by someone right now.

"Hello?" Mickey asked again when Ian didn't say anything. "Ian?"

"Oh…hey, Mick. What's up?" Ian said dejectedly, and then slapped his forehead at how stupid he sounded.

There was a chortle on the other end. "You tell me. You called me, asshole," Mickey said in amusement.

Ian reclined back against the cushions, his lips involuntarily twitching into a small smile just at the sound of Mickey's laugh alone. Shit. He silently berated himself and got back to the task at hand. He had to be serious here.

"Uh, are you busy today? There's something important I really need to talk to you about."

"Sorry, man, today's no good," Mickey said before speaking to someone in the background, his voice muffled.

Ian's jealousy came roaring back in full force when he heard Mickey whispering to someone. "Did I call you at a bad time?" he snipped, trying to keep the edge from his tone, even though he was pretty sure he failed.

"Yeah, kinda," Mickey answered breathlessly. "I'm stuck at the diner all day. We had a few call offs, so I'm pulling a fifteen-hour shift. I won't be home until after eleven, if I'm lucky."

Ian relaxed immediately when he realized Mickey was at work, not naked and ass up beneath someone. He slapped his forehead hard and held his head in his hand, knowing he had to pull himself the fuck together. He had no right at all to get jealous about anything. Mickey could fuck all of South Side and it wouldn't be any of Ian's goddamn business.

"Which diner do you work at?" Ian found himself asking.

"It's called the White Palace Grill, over on South Canal," Mickey said, putting his hand over the phone again to yell something to someone in the background.

"Yeah, I've heard of it."

"Look, man, I really gotta go. It's a fucking madhouse here. Text me later or something."

"Yeah, okay," Ian said, and then hung up.

There would be no texting later. He had to see Mickey as soon as possible. He had to put an end to things before shit became destructible.

* * *

It was the middle of the lunch rush when Mickey saw Ian walk in. He was carrying an armful of plates to a table, when he looked up and they locked eyes from across the crowded restaurant. He had to shake himself from his slight daze and delivered the food to his impatient table.

After stopping to check on another table and refilling their waters, Mickey made his way over to Ian, who was still loitering by the door. "Hey, what're you doing here, man?"

"I was in the neighborhood," Ian said with a small, flirty smile and a shrug. "Thought I'd stop in, grab a bite to eat."

"You were in the neighborhood, huh?" Mickey asked with arched eyebrows, not believing Ian for one second.

Ian just shrugged again with a teasing smile.

"And here I thought you were here just to see me," Mickey flirted back before he could stop himself. He watched as Ian hung his head a little, smiled gingerly and scratched at the back of his neck. Was that a fucking blush he saw?

"Well, yeah, that too," Ian said.

"Come on," Mickey said with a jerk of his head. "We're pretty fucking packed right now, but you're in luck. I have one empty table in my section." He led Ian to an empty table in the back corner and handed him a menu once he was seated.

Ian scanned over the menu. "So, what's good here?"

"We have awesome breakfast food here. The banana pancakes are fucking delicious, and we're known for our blackberry pie," Mickey said, his pen poised over his notepad. He was doing everything he could not to stare at the other man, who was looking fucking incredible in a tight green V-neck shirt that brought out his eyes.

"I'll have the pie then, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream," Ian said, snapping his menu closed and handing it back to Mickey.

"Something to drink?"

"Coffee, lots of sugar."

"Sweet tooth, huh?" Mickey asked, finally looking Ian in the eyes.

"What can I say? I like it sweet," Ian said, a playful glint in his eye.

Mickey cleared his throat and turned to put Ian's order in, not aware that the other man was checking out his ass as he walked away.

* * *

Fuck, Ian was screwed.

He had been seriously set on sitting Mickey down today and telling him that it wasn't going to work out. He had been set on telling Mickey that he couldn't be his wedding planner anymore, because things were getting too weird—too complicated—and he couldn't be around him anymore without the chance of seriously jeopardizing his relationship.

But as soon as he had stepped foot inside the bustling diner and saw Mickey standing there, looking too fucking cute in his white t-shirt, black waiter apron, and a pencil tucked behind his ear, he knew he wasn't going to go through with it. At least not today.

He knew he should have turned around and walked right back out the door before Mickey spotted him, but instead he found himself following Mickey back to the empty booth at the back of the diner, his eyes falling to Mickey's ass admiringly before forcing himself to look away.

As he waited for his pie, his phone buzzed in his pocket and he retrieved it to see that it was a text from Ayden. _'Hey. What r u up to?_' Ayden wanted to know.

Ian's thumbs hovered over the keypad, the nauseating guilt returning full force.

What could he possibly say?_ 'oh hey. I'm at our wedding planner's job practically stalking him. I also stared at his ass and I kinda wanna pull him out into the back alley and fuck him against the wall, maybe eat him out a little first. How's your day going?'_

Instead, he typed,_ 'went for run. maybe going to see my fam l8r.'_

Just as Ayden texted back: '_'k luv u'_, Mickey returned with his coffee and pie.

Ian stared at the message and then looked up to find Mickey sliding into the seat across from him.

"I get a fifteen minute break every few hours," Mickey said. "Figured I'd sit for a minute. You said there was something you wanted to talk to me about?"

Ian slipped his phone back into his pocket, knowing he should just end it right here and now; it was as good a time as any. He should just open his mouth and tell Mickey he couldn't be around him anymore—that he needed to focus on and try to fix his relationship—but when he looked up and locked eyes with Mickey's for a little longer than he should have, he reached forward and grabbed the plate of pie and pulled it closer instead.

"It wasn't important."

* * *

Mickey was having trouble not looking at Ian's mouth as he ate his pie.

The guy really did have amazing fucking lips. Mickey couldn't help but wonder what those lips would taste like in an actual, full-blown kiss. What those lips would feel like wrapped around his—

"This pie really is good," Ian said, breaking Mickey free from his current perverted train of thought.

Mickey squirmed a little and forced himself to look away from Ian's mouth. "I, uh, look, man…there's actually something I wanted to talk to you about." Once he knew he had Ian's undivided attention, he continued, "I'm sorry about the other night. I was completely out of line and I never should've put you in that situation. I mean, fuck, you're getting married in a month and, as much of a douche as I think Ayden is, what I did was a pretty douchey move. It won't happen again, alright? You don't have to worry about me hitting on you again."

He watched as Ian's eyes dropped to his plate and Mickey frowned a little, thinking that Ian looked a little…put off by his words.

"Yeah, it's cool," Ian finally admitted. "No hard feelings or anything. You were drunk, we were both high, and it was an honest mistake. Shit happens."

Mickey allowed himself a brief flash of disappointment at knowing that it had all been a big mistake to Ian, but he quickly shook himself of that. He had to. "So, we're cool?"

"Yeah," Ian said with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "We're cool."

"Good," Mickey said, tapping his knuckle on the table. "I'm glad we cleared that up."

"Yep, all clear."

Mickey lifted his eyes from the table, surprised to see that Ian's smile was now gone, just like his own.

April picked that moment to stop next to their table.

"Sorry, Mick," she said, shooting a kind smile at Ian before looking back at Mickey. "Looks like on top of our double shifts, we're all gonna have to haul ass and help out on dish duty tonight. Derek just called off."

"What the fuck," Mickey groaned, slumping back in his seat.

"Uh," Ian began, his eyes darting back and forth between Mickey and April. "I can maybe help out? I don't have shit else to do today, and I have some dish washing experience, not like it's rocket science or anything. I worked on dishes over at Patsy's Diner back when I was seventeen."

Mickey lifted his eyes to meet Ian's, his eyebrow quirked. "No shit? You'd do that?"

Ian shrugged. "Yeah, why not. It's only for a few hours, right? And you guys are pretty swamped right now. I'd be a dick to not help out."

Mickey found himself smiling, wishing he could lean forward and cup that beautiful face in his hands and kiss Ian until he couldn't breathe. But, of course, he refrained.

April shrugged. "I can talk to Don, but I don't see why not. Pay is minimum wage, under the table."

"Fine with me," Ian said with a shrug. "Not really doing it for the money. Just helping out a friend."

Mickey caught Ian's eyes with his own and held Ian's stare, knowing it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but he did it anyway.

* * *

It was well into the dinner rush, and Ian was beginning to wonder if he had made a big mistake.

Dishes were piling up faster than he could wash them, and random waiters and waitresses kept barking out orders at him every time plates and silverware ran low. He was tired and sweaty and soaked all the way down the front of his shirt, and his feet were already killing him.

He looked up and watched as Mickey entered the kitchen through the swinging door. Their eyes met and suddenly Ian didn't feel so miserable anymore.

"How you holding up back here?" Mickey asked as he looked Ian over, clearly amused by his soaked shirt and disheveled appearance. If Ian didn't know any better, he would think Mickey's eyes lingered a little too long on his wet chest.

"It's going good. Great, actually. Got everything under control," Ian lied, not wanting to admit defeat.

"You fuckin' liar, you're so full of shit," Mickey said with a laugh as he moved to stand next to Ian. "All my tables are cool for now. You need some help back here?"

"Well, I'm sure as shit not going to turn you down."

Mickey grinned, grabbed an empty dish rack, and started loading up dirty plates.

Ian watched as Mickey sprayed the dirty plates off, his bicep flexing as he did so, and Ian forced himself to look away.

As they washed dishes side by side, Mickey bumped his shoulder against Ian's, causing Ian to stumble slightly to the side. "Hey, asshole," Ian exclaimed before doing it right back.

Mickey laughed and aimed the hose at Ian, spraying him.

"What the fuck is your malfunction!" Ian yelled, even though he was laughing. He grabbed a wet sponge and whipped it at Mickey, getting the front of Mickey's shirt wet.

"Hey, dick, I have customers!" Mickey reprimanded through his own laughter. "Besides, you look much better wet than I do," he said, spraying Ian again.

Neither one of them were aware of the cooks and waitresses all watching the two of them curiously.

Ian grabbed a handful of bubbles and slapped them in Mickey's face before doubling over in laughter. As he was bent over laughing, he couldn't help but realize that he hadn't laughed like that in a really long time…and it felt really fucking good.

* * *

After the dinner rush had finally died down, Mickey and Ian took a much-needed smoke break together in the back alley.

"Thanks again for helping me out earlier," Ian said as he puffed on his cigarette.

"Are you fucking kidding, man?" Mickey asked around his own cigarette. "I should be thanking your ass. If you hadn't stayed and helped out, we would have all been screwed."

They fell into an amicable silence for a minute before Ian spoke.

"So, I can't help but feel like the other night wasn't really fair." On Mickey's confused look, Ian continued. "I was pouring my heart out to you; telling you about my bipolar, telling you about Ayden and where I grew up, and I realized I don't really know much about you."

"Well, what do you wanna know?"

"Tell me something about you that not many people know about."

"Hm, you wanna know some deep, dark, dirty secret, huh?" Mickey rasped as he flicked his cigarette.

Ian wanted to pretend that the sound of the other man's voice didn't go straight to his dick. "Yeah."

"There's not much to know about me. I grew up dirt poor in the South Side with a shitty family, a homophobic prick of a dad, I had criminal tendencies…you know, typical teenager from the ghetto."

"So, what made you decide you wanted to be a wedding planner?" Ian asked as he took another hit from his cigarette. "You don't really seem like the type of guy who would enjoy planning weddings."

Mickey looked at Ian, the corner of his lip twitching upwards slightly. "Don't know, man. I'm a hopeless fuckin' romantic, I guess."

Ian locked eyes with him and smiled back before dropping his head. He cleared his throat and threw his cigarette on the ground to stomp it out. "So, you're not close with your family?"

"Aside from Mandy, nah. I talk to my brother Iggy on the rare occasions he decides to actually show his ugly mug, but other than that, it's just us two."

Ian lifted his eyes to Mickey's, his stare soft. "You guys have any plans for the Fourth of July?"

"Besides getting wasted on the couch, eating hot pockets, and watching shitty TV? Nah, man. We ain't real big on holidays."

Ian pushed away from the brick wall, his eyes focused down at his shoes. "My family's having a picnic. Lots of food, lots of alcohol, we even have a pool. The neighbors light off fireworks. It's a good time. You should come…Mandy, too."

Mickey's lips toyed with his cigarette for a few moments, his eyes searching Ian's face, before he asked, "What would your guy think about you inviting your wedding planner to a family picnic?"

"He won't be there," Ian said with a shrug. "He's working on this huge ad campaign right now, so he's opting out to work on that. He doesn't really care for my family and their parties anyway. They're too obnoxious for him."

"Are you going to tell him I'll be there?"

"I don't see why he has to know," Ian said, finally looking up from his shoes to lock eyes with Mickey, a moment passing between them.

They both knew that it was a bad idea; that there was a reason why Ian wouldn't be telling Ayden about Mickey going to the picnic. Still, Mickey agreed to go, and Ian gave him a nod and a smile.

* * *

"Remind me again why we're here?" Mandy whispered harshly to Mickey a couple days later.

"'Cause we didn't have anything fucking better to do, that's why."

"Tell me again how this isn't a terrible fucking idea?"

"Calm your tits, alright. It's just a picnic."

Mandy rolled her eyes as they made their way up to the Gallagher front porch. "Right. We're only here for the free food and booze, right? Not because you have a massive boner for Ian?"

"Will you keep your fucking voice down? Jesus," Mickey snapped before hesitantly knocking on the door.

Moments later, Ian opened the door, his cheeks puffed out as he chewed on a bite of hamburger, and his eyes grew wide when he saw them. "Oh, hey, guys!"

Mickey swallowed hard as his eyes trailed down Ian's naked torso. Of fucking course Ian would be dripping fucking wet while wearing swim trunks that hung low on his hips and clung to his dick. That was exactly how Mickey's luck worked.

"Uh…hey," Mickey said, thrusting the dish he held in his hands out for Ian to take. "We brought jello."

"Cool, thanks." Ian took the proffered dish, and then stepped aside to let them enter. "Welcome to la casa de Gallagher. Did you guys bring your swim suits?"

"Sure did," Mandy said, patting the beach bag she had brought with her.

Ian turned and led them into the kitchen. "Everyone's out back already. Mandy, you can change in there," he said, nodding his head towards the small bathroom off the kitchen as he put the jello among the other various dishes on the counter.

Once Mandy went to change and they were alone, Ian turned to Mickey and smiled softly. "I'm really glad you guys came. I wasn't sure you were going to."

Mickey scratched at his nose with his thumb, still trying to avoid looking at Ian's body.

"It's okay, you know," Ian said after a short pause. "You're allowed to look."

Mickey's eyebrows shot up and he could feel his cheeks burning. "Excuse me?"

Ian laughed. "You're obviously trying not to look. I'm just letting you know that it's okay to look."

Mickey stared back at Ian, wanting so fucking badly to tell him that he wanted to do a whole hell of a lot more than just look, but instead he said, "You shouldn't say shit like that." He had meant it as a warning, but the words came out soft and husky.

Ian leaned back against the counter, brought the bottle of water he held in his hand to his lips and took a sip, his eyes still locked with Mickey's.

Mickey finally allowed himself a lingering peek at Ian's body and found himself resisting the strong urge to step forward and touch him.

Mandy chose that exact moment to come out of the bathroom, wearing a tiny neon green bikini. "Your turn, Mick."

Mickey ducked his head, and then turned to disappear into the small bathroom so that he could change into his trunks. Once the door was closed, he leaned back against it and ran a hand down his face. He knew he was getting sloppy. If his sister hadn't interrupted them when she did, he didn't know what the fuck would have happened.

Still, he changed into his swim trunks and left the bathroom to join the party, even though everything inside him was telling him to leave.

* * *

It was two hours into the party, and Ian was having a good fucking time. Everyone played and splashed in the pool, filled up on slightly burnt (but still delicious) burgers and hot dogs, and the adults were all well on their way to being foolishly and clumsily drunk.

The main reason for Ian's good mood, however, was standing across the yard, currently engaging in conversation with Kevin and Veronica.

Everyone seemed to like Mickey well enough, and he seemed to like them, too. He was joking and conversing with everyone, and even played chicken with Debbie, Fiona, and Lip in the pool. Mickey fit right in. He fit in in a way that Ayden never had.

Ian's smile slowly faded, when he realized that none of those things were helping to lessen his crush on his wedding planner. If anything, it was making shit worse.

Ian brought his beer to his lips and took another sip as his eyes remained focused on Mickey, watching as Mickey's whole face lit up as he laughed.

* * *

Once it got dark out and Kevin was getting the fireworks set up, Mickey staggered over to where Ian was sitting in a lawn chair, looking half-blitzed himself.

"S'up, Red," Mickey said as he sat down in the empty lawn chair next to Ian.

"Hey," Ian said, his cheeks rosy from sunburn, and his hair damp and spiked up all over from being in the pool. Mickey thought Ian looked cute as all hell. "Havin' fun?"

"Shit, yeah, man. Your family's not half bad, Gallagher."

"Well, they seem to really like you, too."

"Have you seen my sister?" Mickey asked, looking around to scan the yard full of people.

"I saw her talking to my brother Lip a little while ago."

"Why don't I like the sound of that?"

"You shouldn't."

"Great," Mickey muttered, leaning back further in his lawn chair. Suddenly, a firework shot into the air and exploded above them, causing the little kids to squeal and clap in delight.

"I'm really glad you came, Mick," Ian said as another one shot off.

Mickey looked over at Ian, their eyes locking as the fireworks went off above them, another moment passing between them. Mickey licked his lips and, without meaning to, dropped his gaze to Ian's mouth. After a tense pause, he forced himself to look away and said, "I'm gonna, uh, go grab another beer."

"Yeah," Ian said softly. "Okay."

Mickey stood up and headed up the porch steps and into the kitchen, feeling as if he had to get away from Ian before he did something irreversibly stupid like lean over and fucking kiss him.

Once he was inside the dark kitchen, he walked over to the fridge and opened it to grab a beer. He walked to the counter and set his beer down before gripping the edge of the counter and hanging his head to take a few deep breaths. "Fuck," he muttered, wondering once again how he had gotten himself into this fucking situation.

A month ago, he hadn't even known Ian Gallagher existed. Now, he was at the guy's fucking house with his family, watching fireworks with him, and doing everything he could to not lean over and kiss the shit out of him.

Mickey heard someone come in through the screen door, and he looked up to see that Ian had entered the kitchen. He didn't say anything, and neither did Ian.

Ian dropped his head and walked over to the fridge to grab his own beer. He then turned around and was only a foot away from Mickey, his eyes still downcast.

Mickey watched him, swallowing thickly and waiting.

After a pause, Ian uttered the words that changed everything.

"I— I like you, too."

Mickey remained leaning back against the counter, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. "Yeah?" he finally said, his voice thick.

Ian visibly swallowed and nodded. "Yeah."

Not wanting to agonize over the consequences any longer, Mickey hesitantly reached out and trailed his finger over Ian's bare hip bone before hooking his finger under the waistband of Ian's swim trunks. He tugged lightly, motioning for Ian to step closer.

Ian took that step forward, and they were suddenly standing only inches apart, heat radiating off both of their bodies. The only sounds were the muffled laughs and voices coming from the backyard, and the sounds of their uneven breathing.

"I can't stop thinking about you," Mickey murmured. "Fuck, Ian. I can't stop thinking about you…about wanting to— to fucking touch you."

Ian closed his eyes and let out a shaky exhale.

Mickey noted the goose bumps that were forming across Ian's skin, and he wanted nothing more than to lean forward and lick every inch of Ian's body, to pull Ian down onto the kitchen floor and slowly explore every fucking inch of Ian with his hands, tongue, and teeth.

"Mickey," Ian whispered breathlessly. "I— can't stop either."

Mickey swallowed thickly as he regarded Ian, knowing that they had both just stepped into dangerous fucking territory. The mere thought of Ian's fiance caused Mickey to come crashing back to reality. Suddenly, it was as if Mickey had been doused with a bucket of ice water. "Fuck…I shouldn't be here," he murmured, leaning in to press his forehead to Ian's. "I shouldn't have fucking come here. I knew it was a bad fucking idea."

Ian nodded slightly against Mickey's forehead, his eyes still closed. "Yeah, maybe you should go before…before we both do something we can't take back."

Mickey nodded, inhaled, and took a reluctant step backwards, knowing it was the smart thing to do even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

As soon as he stepped away, Mandy and Lip came bounding down the steps, both of them whispering and laughing. They both froze when they saw Mickey and Ian standing awkwardly facing each other in the middle of the dark kitchen.

"Oh…hey," Mandy said, looking between the two of them knowingly. "What's going on in here? You guys okay?"

"Yeah," Mickey answered bitterly, trying to ignore the tell-tale scratch marks on Ian's brother's chest. "You ready to get out of here?"

"Now?"

"Yes fucking now."

"Alright, Jesus," Mandy snipped. "Just let me go grab my stuff."

Mickey ran a hand through his damp hair, and then snuck another look at Ian, who wasn't throwing him so much as a glance.

Once Mandy went to grab her stuff with Lip following after her, Ian was the first to break the silence.

"I don't want anything to change," Ian said sullenly. "I still want you to be my wedding planner. I still want us to be friends—"

"And how the fuck is that supposed to work?"

"I don't know, okay? I don't fucking know," Ian said, throwing his hands up in the air. "All I know is…is that I want you in my life as something. If you're not my wedding planner, then what? We go back to just being strangers?"

"Gallagher, I don't know about you, but it's getting really fucking hard for me to keep my hands and lips to myself here, okay? Fuck! I mean, look at you," Mickey retorted. "How the fuck am I supposed to just sit back and pretend I don't want you?"

Ian seemed to take a moment to wrap his head around Mickey's words before saying, "You just…you just have to, okay? We can be adults about this."

Mickey scoffed. "And how's any of this fair to your fiancé, huh?"

A look crossed over Ian's face then and he shook his head. "Nothing's going to happen between us, alright?"

"So you weren't just thinking about fucking me against the counter two minutes ago?"

"No," Ian said simply, unconvincingly.

"Bullshit."

"I don't know about you, but I can control my urges."

Mickey scoffed again. They both knew Ian was lying. "Really? As if I'm some fucking horny kid who can't keep my dick to myself? I can control myself, too, asshole."

"So, what's the problem?" Ian asked with a shrug.

"There is no problem," Mickey shot back. "I'll be your wedding planner, and I'll keep my fucking hands to myself. It's not like you're fucking irresistible or anything. I've had hotter."

"Good," Ian said flatly.

"Yeah, good."

Just then, Mandy came back in from outside. "You ready?"

"Been fuckin' ready! Let's go," Mickey said flatly before brushing roughly past Ian and heading for the front door.

"Did I miss something?" Mandy asked with a quirked eyebrow. "What the fuck happened?"

"I'm not even sure what just happened," Ian said with a sigh, having a feeling he had just completely fucked things up.

Even though he knew it was probably best that Mickey was pissed at him, he still couldn't ignore the fact that—as guilty as he felt regarding things with Ayden—the hurt look that Mickey had given him before walking away made Ian feel worse.


	8. It's My Party, I'll Bitch If I Want To

Mickey stared down at his phone, his eyes lingering on the name on the display.

He really didn't want to fucking do this.

After the Fourth of July picnic from hell four days ago, the last thing he wanted to do was call Ian and tell him that the fucking fabric samples he wanted for the table linens for his wedding reception had finally come in.

For one, he was still pissed the fuck off at Ian for making him seem like some horny creep who couldn't keep his fucking hands to himself. For two, the last thing he wanted to do was call Ian and talk about his goddamn wedding.

He let out a heavy sigh and nervously rubbed a hand over his mouth as he finally pressed the call button, wanting to just get it over and done with. The wedding would be over in a little over three weeks, and he couldn't fucking wait to move on with his life.

After a few rings, Ian answered. "Hello?"

At the mere sound of Ian's voice, Mickey's shoulders slumped, and he realized he wasn't as angry as he had wanted to be.

"Aye," Mickey said dully.

There was a short pause, and then Ian said, "Hey, Mick."

Mickey decided to just cut right to the chase, not wanting to let Ian's sweet tone distract him. "I was just, uh, calling to tell you those fabric samples you wanted came in, so whenever is good for you, we can meet up."

Ian was quiet for a few seconds before saying, "Okay. Is that all you wanted to say?"

"What the fuck else do you want me to say?"

"Something…I mean, I haven't heard a word from you in four days."

"Do you fucking blame me?" Mickey asked flatly. "You basically accused me of being some horny fucking creep who isn't able to keep my hands to myself."

Ian was quiet again before saying, "Look, I only said those things because I was trying to cover my own ass. I didn't have to follow you into the kitchen and tell you that I liked you. And I'm the one who kissed you…twice."

Mickey reclined back against the couch cushions and scratched at his bicep, having no clue that this was how the conversation was going to go down. "Okay…so you're the horny creep who can't keep his hands to himself then? That what you're saying?"

He could practically hear Ian smiling into the phone.

Mickey smiled, too. He cleared his throat and asked, "So, what the fuck do we do now?"

"I don't know. I don't fucking know. Go on and pretend nothing's changed?" Ian answered with a sigh. "It's what we have to do, right?"

"Yeah," Mickey said gruffly, not knowing why he had expected anything different. "Yeah, you're right."

"Hey, look," Ian began with a soft, resigned sigh. "My birthday is the day after tomorrow. Ayden is throwing me a big rooftop party thing at some fancy night club downtown tomorrow night called the Vertigo Sky Lounge. I really want you and Mandy to come. It'll be a bunch of Ayden's friends and his uptight, ad exec colleagues. I need some people there on my side."

"Why is it all his friends? Isn't it your birthday?"

"To Ayden, that's just a technicality. It's really just another reason to throw a party."

Mickey thought it over, thinking that going to a party and having to watch Ian and Ayden be together was the last thing he wanted to do. Still, he asked, "Will there be an open bar?"

"Yes, there will be an open bar," Ian said in amusement. "So…will you come?"

"Yeah, I'll be there," Mickey found himself saying. Because he knew, when it came down to it, that just being near Ian was enough to put up with almost anything.

* * *

As Ian and Ayden were eating dinner that night, Ian nervously forked through his spaghetti and meatballs, irrationally feeling like a little kid who was about to tell his father that he'd done a bad thing.

"What's wrong with you tonight?" Ayden asked from across the table as he dug into his salmon, asparagus, and roasted red potatoes. "You're being unusually quiet."

"I invited Mickey and his sister to my party tomorrow night," Ian blurted.

Ayden gave him a perturbed look as he lowered his fork. "You mean the wedding planner? Why would you invite him to your party?"

Ian shrugged. "We're friends, okay? It's my party and I invited them. It shouldn't be a big deal."

Ayden snorted in wry amusement. "It's not a big deal. I'll just be sure to tell management to watch their cash registers and hide the fine china."

Ian scowled and watched as Ayden took a sly sip of his wine. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it," Ayden said, distracted once again by his dinner.

Ian watched him for a few heartbeats before standing up with his plate, walking to the kitchen, and throwing his dishes carelessly in the sink with a loud clatter.

"Alright, Ian, what is your problem?" Ayden asked, slamming his fork down. "You've been moody all damn week!"

"Oh, I don't know," Ian said, spinning to face him and roughly rubbing at his chin as he pretended to think it over. "How about the fact that I told you I just wanted to have a normal fucking birthday party this year with my family and friends, and you go behind my back and book the fucking Vertigo Sky Lounge and invite all of your friends. Do you even care about what I want? Does what I want even fucking matter to you?"

Ayden just regarded Ian as if he was simply just a small child throwing a temper tantrum.

"And then when I tell you that I actually invited one of my friends, you go and make a rude fucking comment that was completely out of line."

"Okay, Ian, let's calm down here. I'm sorry I decided to go all out for your birthday this year. I'm sorry I booked the best venue in town, ordered the best food and the most expensive alcohol to celebrate your birthday. I'm such a dick, I know!"

"You never get my fucking point!" Ian exclaimed. "You never do what I want! You don't get it…you don't get me!"

"I think you're being a little overdramatic right now, don't you think?"

"And you're being a dick!" Ian yelled back, knowing that most of his anger was stemming from the fact that Ayden had so blatantly insulted Mickey without even knowing anything about him.

Ayden stared back at Ian expressionless. "I already spent good money on the venue, so we're still having the party. But next year, I'll be sure to rent out the party room at Sizzler's," he said coldly.

Ian scoffed in disgust, tossed his hands in the air, and left the room to disappear into the bathroom. He slammed the door hard behind himself and leaned back against it, his chest heaving and his eyes stinging.

He had never felt so misunderstood by anyone in his entire life. And the fact that it was his fiancé—of all fucking people—that didn't understand him at all didn't sit too well with him.

He sniffed and pulled his phone out from his pocket and scrolled down to Mickey's name. His thumb hovered over the call button, but he ultimately decided against calling him. He left the bathroom to go to bed early so that he could escape into sleep.

* * *

"You know, I'm definitely starting to see the benefits of you hanging out with Ian," Mandy said as they looked around the massive rooftop venue with a beautiful view of downtown Chicago as the backdrop. "I've never been a VIP guest anywhere before, this is exciting!"

Mickey rolled his eyes from beside her, but even he couldn't deny that the party venue was pretty impressive. He was also painfully aware, once again, that Ayden was able to give Ian all the things he would never be able to give him in a million years.

A waiter walked by carrying a tray full of champagne flutes.

Mickey quickly grabbed two before the waiter could walk off, knowing he was going to need as much alcohol as possible to get through the night.

"Oh, there's Ian! He looks really good!" Mandy exclaimed. "Is that Brody Jenner-looking dude his guy?"

Mickey turned to look in the direction Mandy was pointing, and his heart immediately sank at what he saw. Ian was wearing tan pants and an untucked, dark blue button down shirt, and he looked fucking incredible. Next to him—with his arm wrapped protectively around Ian's waist—was Ayden, looking as fucking douchebaggy as ever.

Mickey downed one flute of champagne in one long gulp.

"You sure you want to be here, Mickey?" Mandy asked, all earlier signs of teasing and excitement were gone. "We can leave if you want. We can just go to Denny's instead."

"Nah, I'm good," Mickey said, trying to keep his voice steady as he kept his eyes on the laughing, beautiful redhead across the room. "I have to see them together, you know? Maybe it'll actually fucking sink in that there's no chance in hell for us."

Mandy reached up and rubbed his arm affectionately. She then quickly got distracted. "Oh, little shrimps on a stick! This is some fancy shit, man," she exclaimed when a waiter walked by carrying hors d'oeuvres.

* * *

Ian was having a terrible fucking time.

Considering the outrageous amount of money Ayden had spent on the evening, the food was subpar at best. The music wasn't even anything Ian would ever listen to, and all of Ayden's colleagues and friends were talking about shit he had no interest in; shit like politics and religion and the economy. No, thanks. He'd much rather talk about baseball and Mario Kart.

He was bored out of his mind and had forgotten—on more than one occasion during the night—that it was supposed to be his fucking birthday party.

Thanks to his meds, he couldn't even get drunk to take the edge off.

Ian took a sip of his first and only champagne and glanced across the room, spotting Mickey and Mandy loitering by the entrance. Immediately, his mood shifted and he smiled as he watched them, specifically Mickey.

Mickey was looking around as if he had never been anywhere nice before. It was cute as all hell.

He noted how fucking amazing Mickey looked in dark jeans and a black button-down shirt, his sleeves rolled up a little and the first couple buttons were undone at the collar. Ian wished he could undo the rest of those buttons with his teeth…

"You okay?" Ayden suddenly asked from beside him, whispering into his ear.

"Yeah," Ian grumbled back hoarsely, having made it quite clear to Ayden throughout the night that he wasn't happy. Yet, Ayden didn't seem to care about rectifying that in any way.

"You're being quiet," Ayden snipped. "You're not talking to anyone. It's rude."

"Maybe because I don't fucking know anyone," Ian whispered back through clenched teeth.

"Christ, Ian, can we argue about this later at home? Try to at least have a good time while we're here?"

Ian rolled his eyes, and then stepped away from the hold Ayden had kept around his waist most of the night. "My friends just got here. I'm going to go say hi. Is that alright with you?"

Ayden just shot Ian a pointed look. In the next instant, Ayden's face broke into a huge grin, and his whole demeanor changed as soon as one of his work friends scampered over.

Ian shook his head and turned to head over to Mickey and Mandy, finding his bad mood slipping away as soon as he locked eyes with the other man. "Hey, you guys made it."

"Hey, thanks for inviting us. This place is fancy!" Mandy exclaimed.

"Yeah," Ian said with a soft smile. His eyes skidded over to Mickey again, and he watched as Mickey chugged his champagne down.

"Where's the little girl's room?" Mandy asked. "I have to piss like a racehorse."

"Uh," Ian said, turning around and pointing over his shoulder. "I think it's over there somewhere."

"Here, hold this," Mandy said, handing Mickey her champagne flute and heaping plate of hors d'oeuvres.

Mickey and Ian stood awkwardly for a few moments after Mandy had gone.

"Fancy place," Mickey snipped, speaking first and still not quite meeting Ian's eyes. "It's pretty fucking impressive, I gotta admit."

Ian shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Ayden picked it out."

"I've never had birthday parties like this," Mickey said flatly against the rim of his glass.

Ian eyed him warily, wondering why Mickey seemed so standoffish and antagonistic all of a sudden. "Hey, Mick, are we okay? You know, about the other night at the picnic?"

"Didn't we already discuss this shit over the phone?" Mickey asked rather flatly as his eyes scanned the crowded rooftop. "I told you we're cool."

"Can you at least look at me when you say that?"

Mickey's shoulders visibly slumped and then, finally, he locked his blue eyes with Ian's.

"What's up with you?"

Mickey gnawed on his lower lip a little before asking, "Is this why you're with the guy?"

Ian took in Mickey's words, and then frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Because he can give you shit like this? He can rent out entire fucking rooftops for your birthday that overlook all of fucking Chicago. He can throw parties with expensive champagne and fancy food on sticks and frilly fucking napkins."

"No, I…no…that's not why."

Mickey kept looking at him warily, and then he sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face.

"I didn't ask him to do any of this. In fact, I very specifically asked him not to do any of this, but he did it anyway. He doesn't care about what I want."

"You know, the more you talk about the guy, the more I'm beginning to wonder if there's anything you actually fuckin' like about the asshole."

Ian opened his mouth to respond, but closed it when he realized he had nothing to say.

Just then, Mandy came sauntering back over, happily taking her champagne and food back from Mickey. "They have a fucking lady in the bathroom that hands you paper towels and mints! What is this place!"

Ian swallowed the bitter lump in his throat as he continued watching Mickey, who was once again looking anywhere but at him. He felt sick, not wanting Mickey to think that he was just some gold digger, who was only with Ayden for his money. Then again, Mickey's words were also unsettling because he was starting to forget what it was that he actually did like about Ayden.

Just then, Ian felt an arm slide around his shoulders and he froze, watching as Mickey's gaze went to the floor, his face dropping even more.

"Mickey, good to see you again," Ayden declared stiffly. "How's our wedding plans coming along?"

"Hey," Mickey said dryly, bringing his champagne back up to his lips. "They're coming."

"Hi, I'm Mandy," Mandy said, offering her hand. "Mickey's sister."

As Mandy and Ayden shook hands, Ian kept his eyes on Mickey's face, realizing just how hard Mickey was trying not to look at the arm slung around his shoulders.

He noted how Mickey chewed nervously on his lower lip, how he shuffled back and forth a little bit, clearly uncomfortable. He noticed how blue Mickey's eyes looked tonight. Even from here—four feet away from him—Ian could tell how incredible Mickey smelled.

In that moment, Ian couldn't think of many things he liked about his fiancé…but as far as Mickey was concerned, he could think of a few dozen.

* * *

Mickey wished he could rewind time.

He wished he never would have stood in front of his closet earlier, nervously sifting through his shitty thrift store wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear.

He wished he never would have put that stupid fucking cologne on.

He wished he never would have argued with the bouncer for ten minutes to let them in, as the bouncer eyed them up suspiciously before seeing that, yes, indeed they were actually on the guest list.

He really wished he didn't have to be standing there right now, watching Ayden with his fucking arm wrapped around Ian's shoulders.

Ayden, Ian, and Mandy were talking, but Mickey didn't hear anything that was being said until Ayden obnoxiously cleared his throat and announced that he was heading over to greet some new arrivals.

Mickey looked up at the worst possible moment and watched as Ayden leaned in and kissed Ian on his temple before walking away. He locked eyes with Ian briefly before looking away again.

Mandy, for some reason, spoke up. "I'm going to go hunt down some more champagne." She shot Mickey a look to let him know that she knew they needed a moment alone together.

After she walked away, Mickey ran a hand down his face. "Ian, look, man—"

"Hey, Ian. Ian," Ayden said, walking over and grabbing Ian by the elbow. "You remember Marty don't you? We went out to dinner with him and his wife at Chez Moi a few months back? Come say hi."

Ian looked at Mickey apologetically before allowing himself to be led away.

Mickey watched as Ayden dragged Ian to a small group of people, his heart sinking down into his shoes, feeling more out of place than ever.

He ran a hand down his face and scanned the crowd, trying to figure out where his sister had suddenly disappeared off to. He really hoped she wasn't looking for a random hookup for the night. The last thing he was in the mood for was a restless, sleepless night hearing his sister getting pounded in the next room.

Then again, he knew he probably wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight, anyway.

His eyes averted over to where Ian and Ayden were now standing and chatting with a couple. He had to look away and take a gulp of his champagne when he saw Ayden put his hand on the small of Ian's back.

When Mickey looked back up, he saw that he now had company.

"Hi," the guy said with a smile as he looked Mickey up and down, not even trying to hide the fact that he liked what he saw.

"Hey," Mickey said with a curt nod of his head.

"I'm Gary, one of Ayden's buddies from work."

Mickey reluctantly shook his hand. "Mickey. Ian's…wedding planner."

"Oh, a wedding planner? Interesting," Gary said, giving Mickey a lecherous smile that made Mickey slightly uncomfortable. "You got a card?"

Mickey just brought his glass to his lips and took another gulp, silently thinking to himself that the alcohol wasn't working nearly fucking fast enough.

* * *

Ian was trying to pay attention to the conversation around him, he really was.

Still, he found himself once again glancing back over his shoulder in Mickey's direction. He frowned when he saw that Mickey was no longer standing alone.

Gary fucking Johnson.

Gary Johnson was one of Ayden's colleagues. He was a good guy; charismatic, funny, charming…and very openly gay. He had always been one of the few friends of Ayden's that Ian actually got along with. Not tonight.

Ian's eyes narrowed as he watched Gary laugh a little too hard at something Mickey said, and then Gary proceeded to reach out and touch Mickey's forearm gingerly.

Hell to the fuck no.

Ian turned back around stiffly and hesitated for only a moment before leaning in towards Ayden, who was intently listening to his friend's story. "Hey, I'll be right back," he whispered.

Ayden nodded and practically waved him off without so much as a second glance.

Ian rolled his eyes and turned to head over to where Mickey and his predator stood.

"Hey," Ian said once he reached them, his eyes focused solely on Gary.

"Ian!" Gary exclaimed. "Hi! I was just talking to your wedding planner here."

"Yeah, I see that," Ian said stiffly. He averted his eyes to find Mickey watching him with a knowing smirk.

Gary continued speaking, unaware of the looks Ian and Mickey were giving each other. "I was just saying how—"

"Uh, yeah. Hey, Gary…Ayden was just asking to speak with you," Ian said, his eyes still locked with Mickey's.

"Really?" Gary asked, scratching at the back of his neck and looking over in Ayden's direction. "He seems like he's pretty busy right now."

"Nope, he sent me over here to get you. Better go see what he wants."

"Oh," Gary said, sounding confused and a bit disappointed. "Oh, well, okay. It was nice meeting you, Mickey. Maybe I'll bump into you again at some point in the night?"

"Yeah, okay, bye bye," Ian said before Mickey could answer him.

Gary shot Ian an annoyed look before turning around and walking away.

Ian watched as Gary walked away, and then turned back around to find Mickey grinning at him. "What?"

"You're such a dick."

"Oh, what? Like you were really thinking about fucking the guy?"

"So what if I was?"

"Then I'd call bullshit."

"Aye, you never know. Get enough of these in me—" Mickey trailed off, holding up his champagne. "You could've just cockblocked me, asshole!"

"Please. Never would've happened. It's so fucking obvious he's a hardcore bottom."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I need a top that can rough me up a little, give it to me good and hard. That guy wouldn't have cut it," Mickey said with a smirk against the rim of his glass. He looked up and their eyes locked.

"Oh, really?" Ian asked, knowing he should turn around and walk away right now—right fucking now—but this was the most fun he had been having all night and he wasn't about to do that. "So, you are a bottom?"

"Tried and true," Mickey answered throatily, dropping his eyes as he placed his lips to the rim of his glass to take a sip. "How 'bout you, Gallagher? You give or take?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Ian teased. They both knew they were playing a dangerous game, but neither one of them were willing to back down just yet.

Mickey quirked a suggestive eyebrow.

Just then, Ayden chose that precise moment to interrupt. "Ian, I have someone I'd like you to meet. You can talk to your friends later, come on."

Ian forced a small smile for Ayden's benefit, and then shot a quick glance in Mickey's direction before dutifully following the other man.

Mickey watched after them, his eyebrows furrowing. He couldn't help but notice the way Ian had deflated in a matter of seconds. How his smile had quickly faded and the playful look he had in his eyes had disappeared the moment he'd heard his fiancé's voice behind him.

* * *

Ian was standing there with Ayden and his boring ass friends, his mind far removed from any conversation going around him as he bristled with irritation.

He wished it hadn't gotten to him so much, seeing someone simply just striking up a conversation with Mickey, but he had hated it. He had wanted to walk right up to Gary fucking Johnson and wipe that stupid smile he had been giving Mickey right off of his dumb, fat face.

He knew he was being a little irrational, considering Gary really was a nice guy and Mickey wasn't even his to get jealous about, but still.

He had been on edge all night and that had nearly sent him over it. He was just so ready for this night to be over.

After casually glancing back to where Mickey was still loitering in the same spot he had been standing in all night, he realized he was being spoken to by his present company and looked back at the people awaiting his answer.

"Huh? I'm sorry, what?"

"Jesus, Ian," Ayden muttered close to his ear. "Can you at least try not to embarrass me tonight?"

That finally pushed Ian over the edge.

All night, Ayden had dragged him around by the elbow to all of his friends and colleagues. All night he had used phrases like 'don't embarrass me, Ian', 'try to act interested, Ian', and—Ian's personal favorite—'don't chew with your mouth open, Ian, you look like a cow when you do.'

All night, he felt like he wanted to snap and now he was about to.

"Oh, excuse the fuck outta me for being bitchy at my own birthday party that I didn't even fucking want in the first place," he exclaimed, causing people to stop what they were doing and saying to turn and look. "Wouldn't want to embarrass you on my night in front of your friends. Sorry I'm not up to date on the latest political news or big religious movement or health food fucking craze, or if I chew my food like a fucking cow! Fuck you!" He turned and stalked off, leaving a red-faced Ayden behind.

Ian walked to the edge of the party and looked out over the roof, tears sliding down his cheeks…tears from embarrassment because he had just made a complete ass out of himself in front of everyone; tears from anger because Ayden didn't fucking get him at all; tears because of the fucking jealousy that had coursed through him just ten minutes ago because of someone flirting with a guy who wasn't even his to get jealous over.

He squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head, wishing he could just go home and end this fucking night from hell already.

Just as Ian knew he would, he felt hands on his shoulders and he resisted the urge to shake them off. "Leave me the hell alone. Go back to your friends."

"I'm sorry," Ayden whispered against his ear.

"I don't wanna hear it. You're always fucking sorry."

"Ian."

"You're a fucking asshole."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Ian closed his eyes, too exhausted and drained to even try to argue with him. He just allowed himself to continue the same pattern as always; Ayden makes him feel like shit, and then Ian forgives him. It was just the way it was. He finally relaxed back against Ayden's chest, emotionally drained.

"You know I love you," Ayden whispered against Ian's neck. "What's say we just leave and go home? We'll put in a movie and drink cheap beer and you can eat whatever greasy, fattening leftovers you want from the fridge. We'll do whatever you want to do for the rest of the night. I promise."

Ian resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes, wishing Ayden would have just thought of that to begin with. It shouldn't have to be like this…it shouldn't have to turn into a big, huge thing for Ayden to finally get it.

Ayden grabbed Ian by the shoulders and turned him around. Before Ian could even argue or push him away, Ayden's hands were cupping his face and his lips were on Ian's, soft and tender.

Ian allowed himself to be kissed, figuring it was easier that way.

* * *

"Well, that shit escalated quickly," Mandy whispered from beside him.

Mickey watched as Ian headed towards the edge of the party, clearly upset. He wanted nothing more than to follow after Ian and make sure he was alright, but knew he couldn't do that, not with Ian's fiancé only yards away.

His stomach twisted when he watched Ayden excuse himself from his friends and head after Ian.

It was like witnessing a car crash. He knew he shouldn't watch, but he couldn't look away from it.

Mickey watched as Ayden moved behind Ian, placing his hands on Ian's shoulders. He watched as Ian immediately tensed up and said something roughly over his shoulder. He watched as Ayden leaned in close to Ian's ear and whispered something as he massaged Ian's shoulders.

With a heavy heart, he watched as Ian finally relaxed back against Ayden. He then watched as Ayden slowly turned Ian to face him, and then watched as Ayden bent down to place a soft kiss on Ian's lips.

Mickey immediately looked away and swallowed the sour lump in his throat. That was the last thing he'd wanted to see…but maybe it was exactly what he needed to see. Maybe it was the catalyst he needed to get him to finally move on.

"Come on," he said to his sister, his voice thick with emotion. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

They entered the penthouse later that night, and Ayden immediately began stripping as he headed towards the bathroom. "Want to join me in the shower? I'll give you birthday head, maybe it'll relieve some of that tension you have pent up."

"No, not tonight. I'm too tired," Ian said dejectedly as he sank down on the couch. He couldn't help but wonder how many people would turn down a birthday blowjob from their very willing and able fiancé. He didn't want to think about it. He had enough shit on his mind to agonize over.

Ayden walked up behind the couch to place a quick kiss on the top of Ian's head before disappearing into the bathroom.

Ian reclined back against the couch cushions once he was alone and ran a shaky hand over his face. He felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket a few seconds later, and he leaned over to retrieve it, figuring that it was one of his siblings wishing him a happy birthday, since it was now one minute after midnight and officially his birthday.

His heart thumped in his chest when he saw Mickey's name displayed on the screen.

Ian opened the text message and instantly grinned at what he read: _Happy Bday. sorry we ran out so fast. didnt give u ur gift. its nothing fancy like ur prob used to. just a punch card for a months worth of free pie and coffee at the diner. oh and a 4 yr old Foot Locker gift card I never used. ur welcome._

Ian's grin widened at the fork, coffee cup, shoe, and thumbs-up emoji symbols that Mickey had added to the end of the message.

He realized it was the first time he had genuinely smiled all day.

He typed out a response and thought about it for only a handful of seconds before hitting send.

* * *

Mickey was lying flat on his back, wide awake and staring blankly at the ceiling, his head swimming with thoughts that he couldn't shake. His phone vibrated on the bedside table and he grunted as he reached over to grab it.

His heart sped up when he saw that it was a reply message from Ian. He hadn't even expected Ian to answer him back, figuring Ian was probably busy patching things up with his asshole fiancé, and wouldn't get his message until morning.

Mickey opened the text message and had to reread it a few times before it finally started to sink in, the words resonating in his head: _wish I had met u first_

He swallowed thickly as his heart hammered in his chest and his face grew hot. His fingers shook as he typed back a response, wondering what consequences would come of it even as he hit send: _me too_


	9. Waiting Out The Storm

Before Mickey could even make it all the way through his apartment door, the other man was pressing up against him from behind and reaching around to grope for Mickey's dick through his pants, his breath hot and fast on the back of Mickey's neck.

"Fuck," Mickey groaned, his breath hitching in anticipation.

This was the third guy in four nights that Mickey had brought home with him in his desperate attempt to forget about and get over Ian Gallagher.

The first guy had been the no bullshit and straight to the point type, just as Mickey liked it. They had barely said two words to each other the entire time. The guy had fucked Mickey hard and fast and dirty, then he left without so much as a backwards glance.

The second guy had been hotter than the first, but he had turned out to be the exact opposite of the first guy, wanting to know personal things about Mickey; asking about his age, likes and dislikes, and shit. He had even hinted at spending the night, but Mickey wasn't having any of that. Mickey still let the guy fuck him, he came within minutes, and then he sent the guy packing immediately after.

The guy he had picked up tonight at a seedy, lowkey bar on the way home from work seemed a little too handsy for Mickey's liking, and kept trying to kiss him. Mickey was half-tempted to shove the guy right back out the door, but he didn't. He was too fucking horny for that.

There was one thing all of these guys had in common, though; they weren't Ian…and that was the whole point. It was exactly what he needed, someone who wasn't Ian.

Still, even after getting his ass pounded by these guys, he felt empty and unsatisfied. Immediately after walking the guys out and shutting the door behind them, it was still Ian he thought about as he lied awake at night, unable to sleep.

The guy he had brought home tonight (Todd or Tim or Ted, he couldn't remember, nor did he really care to remember) spoke and brought him out of his reverie.

"So, nice place."

"Yeah, I don't wanna fucking talk right now. Take off your pants," Mickey demanded as he immediately began unbuckling his belt. He shoved his jeans and boxers down around his knees, and then turned to brace himself against the kitchen counter, right where Mandy usually sat to enjoy her morning coffee.

What Mandy didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

"You don't waste any time, do you?"

"Are you going to get the fuck on me or not?" Mickey spat.

After a hasty and sloppy preparation, the guy pressed and rocked into Mickey with a satisfied grunt. Mickey gasped and squeezed his eyes shut as he adjusted to the stinging pain. This guy definitely had the biggest dick of the three.

Still, even as he was getting it good and hard—and doing the one and only thing he could think to do to get over Ian—it was Ian's face he saw when he closed his eyes.

* * *

Something had gotten into Ayden that morning.

Every once in a while, Ayden would get the sudden and inexplicable urge to ride Ian. It didn't happen very often, but when it did, Ian was usually over the fucking moon about it. Any time Ayden got a little wild in bed was just fine with Ian.

This morning, however, Ian couldn't help but feel as if he had to force himself to get into it. Sure, it felt good—anything involving his dick usually did—but this morning it felt different, like he was just going through the motions…like he had to force it.

As Ayden was riding his cock, his fingers curling and scratching into Ian's chest just the way Ian usually liked it, Ian found himself struggling to focus. Ian dug his fingers roughly into his fiancé's hips and planted his feet on the bed, gritting his teeth and thrusting up quick and fast, trying to get into it and getting pissed at himself because he couldn't.

"Ian," Ayden gasped as he buckled forward to crush his lips hungrily against Ian's. He moaned into Ian's open mouth as he shuddered from his orgasm.

Ian realized then, as Ayden came all over his stomach and chest, that he wasn't even close to his own orgasm.

Ayden must have realized it, too, and braced himself back up to continue riding Ian at a steady, quick pace.

"Hey. Hey," Ian said breathlessly, bucking his hips up once to get the other man's attention. "Hey, I'm good. You don't have to keep going. I'm good."

Ayden slowed his movements, his eyebrows furrowing. "How are you good? You didn't even come yet."

"I know…I think my meds are fucking with my dick today or something," Ian said dully, barely able to look Ayden in the eye as he said this, because he knew his meds had nothing to do with his low libido this morning.

Ayden sighed as he gingerly lifted off of Ian's unspent dick, and then relaxed next to him. "Okay. Maybe we'll try again later?"

"Yeah…maybe."

Ayden leaned over and kissed Ian chastely on the corner of his mouth before rolling out of bed to go clean himself up, once again skipping the cuddling.

Ian ran a hand down his face once he was alone, and then held his hand over his mouth as he stared up at the ceiling.

Fuck.

* * *

"I don't know what you want me to say here, Ian."

"Tell them you can't fucking go."

"Seriously? How many times do we have to have the same argument over and over again? You know I can't do that."

"Our wedding is in three fucking weeks, Ayden. We were supposed to go tux shopping today, remember? Or wasn't that important enough to pencil into your weekly fucking planner."

"I know we were supposed to go tux shopping, but there's nothing I can do. I have to go. It's mandatory."

Ian swiped a hand down his face and sighed in aggravation. It seemed like all he and Ayden did these days was argue. It was getting really fucking exhausting.

"Look," Ayden said as he finished packing his bag and zipped it up. "You go get your tux, and I'll get mine when I get back. It'll be better that way anyway. We won't see each other until the day of the wedding."

Ian resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes at Ayden's futile attempt to rectify the situation.

Ayden walked to Ian and gripped his chin, tilting Ian's head back to force him to look up. "I'm sorry. You know if I had a choice, I'd stay here with you."

Ian wasn't so sure he believed that, but he still nodded anyway.

Ayden bent down to give Ian a quick, chaste kiss before turning around and leaving.

* * *

It was Mickey's day off and he was out running his errands, completely minding his own business. Things were going good; bills were getting paid, he did a load of laundry, and he was on his way to pick up some much-needed groceries. It felt kind of good being a responsible fucking adult.

Mickey looked up from his handful of coupons and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight in front of him. If he actually believed in a god, he would seriously think he was being fucking punished.

Ian hadn't spotted him yet, his eyes downcast as he walked towards Mickey, his cell phone up to his ear as he chatted animatedly to whoever was on the other end.

How can someone look so fucking amazing in a simple plain white t-shirt and jeans?

Ian finally looked up when he was a few feet away and slowed to a stop. "Hey, Fi…let me call you back," Ian said slowly as his eyes locked with Mickey's. "Something important just came up."

Mickey dropped his head and looked off to the side, pretending to be interested in something across the street.

"Hey," Ian said wistfully once he had hung up.

"Hey," Mickey said curtly with a gentle nod.

"Haven't heard from you in a few days."

"Yeah, uh, been busy."

"That was, uh, that was some party the other night, huh?" Ian continued. He paused as an awkward silence settled over them and then said, "You left pretty quick…didn't say goodbye."

"Yeah, didn't really feel like sticking around. Plus, you looked busy," Mickey said, deciding not to bring up the text messages; knowing there was no point. They didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. They both had to just accept the fact that they had met each other too late. "Uh, so I should go. I have a bunch of shit to do today. I'll see ya later."

Just as Mickey was moving to brush past him, Ian reached out and grabbed Mickey's arm. "Mick."

Mickey let out a slow, unsteady breath as he looked down at Ian's hand on his forearm. He couldn't deny the spark he felt in the simple, innocent touch. "Ian…don't."

Ian removed his hand from Mickey's arm and shoved his hands into his pockets. "So, that's it then? You want to just act like we don't know each other now?"

"It's probably for the best, yeah."

"You don't believe that."

"Fuck, Ian! You're fucking engaged!" Mickey exclaimed, suddenly finding his voice. "What the fuck did you think was going to happen? You send me a text message telling me that you wish you'd met me first. The fuck am I supposed to do with that?"

"I…I don't know!" Ian exclaimed right back. "I didn't think it would mean this!"

Mickey ran a hand over his hair and focused his attention down the street. "I can't be around you right now," he finally admitted.

"What are you talking about? Yes, you can."

"No," Mickey snipped before looking at Ian pointedly, "I really fucking can't."

Ian let out a sigh. "That's ridiculous. Of course you can. Come on," he said with a jerk of his head. "I'm on my way to go tux shopping. You're my wedding planner. You should be there."

"Ian," Mickey sighed.

"Come on. It won't take that long, I promise."

Mickey stared back at Ian, feeling himself starting to crack. Just one look into those green eyes, and he knew there was no use in denying it or trying to fight it. The sad truth of the matter was that he wanted to be around Ian no matter how much it hurt. He was such a fucking idiot.

"Where's your fiancé?" Mickey asked with perhaps a little too much bite. "Shouldn't he be the one going tux shopping with you?"

Ian ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "He went on another business trip; won't be back until tomorrow night." He paused and looked Mickey dead in the eyes, giving him that smirk he always used on him. "Come on, I could really use a second opinion."

Mickey chewed on his lower lip as his eyes searched Ian's.

Sure enough, twenty minutes later, Mickey found himself standing in the middle of the ritzy tuxedo shop, wondering once again what the fuck was wrong with him. He seriously needed to get his goddamn head examined.

Mickey crossed his arms and shuffled uncomfortably under the shop owner's blatant scrutiny. Bitch acted like she'd never seen someone with tattoos and a slick back before.

Just as he was about to open his mouth and ask if she wanted to snap a fucking picture, Ian came out of the dressing room and Mickey suddenly forgot what words were.

Ian Gallagher was the most beautiful fucking thing Mickey had ever seen in his life.

"Do I look okay?" Ian asked as he turned to regard himself in the full-length mirror. He smoothed out the lapels of the sleek, expensive black tux and tugged on the ends of the sleeves to test out the length.

Mickey's eyes swept over Ian, his throat suddenly going incredibly dry. "Uh, yeah. Yeah," he finally blurted. "You look…it looks good."

Ian caught Mickey's eyes in the mirror and he smiled shyly before looking down. "Good. I think this is the one."

"Yeah, definitely…definitely the one," Mickey said softly. He watched as Ian got measured and then disappeared back into the dressing room. Mickey was half-tempted to follow him in, but resisted…if only for the bitch still giving him the stink eye.

His urges were getting harder and harder to resist, and he wondered how long it would be before he either went fucking crazy or gave in.

After Ian paid the deposit for the tux and gave the proper personal information, they made their way out onto the sidewalk and stood awkwardly facing each other.

"So, what—"

"Do you—"

Ian chuckled as they began talking at the same time and rubbed at the back of his neck. "You go first."

Mickey gnawed on his lower lip as he regarded Ian. What eventually came out of his mouth certainly wasn't what he had expected himself to say. "What are you up to for the rest of the day?"

Ian locked eyes with Mickey's as his face broke into a grin, and he shrugged his shoulders. "Absolutely nothing."

"Well, uh, I was actually thinking about heading over to Red Mango for some frozen yogurt. Could always use some company," Mickey said, having had no prior intention of doing any such thing, but he wasn't ready to say goodbye to Ian just yet.

"I could go for some frozen yogurt."

"Well, let's go," Mickey said, turning and nodding his head in the direction of the yogurt shop.

* * *

Once they got their frozen yogurt and sat down at a small table on the outside patio, the conversation flowed easily, their earlier embarrassment and tension completely gone.

"Seriously, after you left the party the other night, I swear to god Gary walked around looking for you for like an hour. He wanted the D bad, man," Ian said, as he clutched his side from laughing so hard.

"Yeah, well, the only D he was getting was denied," Mickey said, which caused Ian to laugh even harder. Mickey grinned as he watched Ian nearly doubled over. "Aye," he said, nodding towards Ian's yogurt. "What flavor did you get?"

"Cake batter," Ian said as he shoveled a spoonful into his mouth and licked his spoon clean. "It's yummy."

Mickey was slightly distracted by Ian's mouth as he said, "Nah, man…no. Fuck your cake batter. It's all about the white peach."

"Wait," Ian said, narrowing his eyes playfully, "that's not a euphemism for your ass, is it?"

Mickey barked out a laugh. "Fuck you, man," he said, his eyes dancing with laughter. He spooned some of his yogurt and held it out for Ian to taste. "Here, try it. It's the most delicious thing you could ever put in your mouth."

"Hm…doubt it," Ian said with a playful glint in his eye as he leaned in and wrapped his mouth around Mickey's spoon, their eyes locking as he did so.

Mickey's eyes took in the sight of Ian's soft, pink tongue curling around the spoon, and he felt his dick twitch. He cleared his throat when Ian pulled back. "Good?" he asked, pretty sure his voice cracked.

"Mmhm," Ian said, still licking his lips.

Mickey watched as Ian went back to his own yogurt. He smiled to himself before happily scooping up some more of his own yogurt on the spoon Ian had just slurped on.

Christ, he was so fucking gone.

* * *

As they were casually making their way down the sidewalk towards Mickey's apartment a little while later, it started pouring down rain out of nowhere.

"Jesus! What the fuck!" Mickey grumped. "It was fucking sunny two goddamn minutes ago!"

"Shit!" Ian exclaimed, even though his voice was bubbling with laughter.

They ran down the sidewalk as the rain pelted heavily around them, drenching them instantly before they even had a chance to find cover.

After stopping to jump, play, and splash each other in a few puddles like a couple of kids (Ian having to goad Mickey into it, of course), they finally reached Mickey's apartment building and Mickey held the door open, allowing Ian to enter first.

"Well, you might as well come in and wait out the storm," Mickey said breathlessly as he ran a hand over his wet face.

"Sounds like the opening line to a really bad porno," Ian said with a snort of laughter.

They slumped against the wall of the apartment lobby next to the mailboxes, gasping for air through their panting and laughter.

"What the fuck! We're fucking soaked!" Ian exclaimed, pushing his drenched hair away from his forehead. "Was it even supposed to rain today?"

"Fuck if I know." Mickey's chest heaved as he laughed and fought for breath. He looked over at Ian and his laughter suddenly died on his lips when he saw the sight in front of him…Ian Gallagher soaked from head to toe, his white t-shirt clinging to his body, his nipples poking through the thin cotton material. His hair was darker than usual and slicked back. Beads of rain were slowly running down his face and trickling down his throat.

It took a moment for Mickey to realize that Ian had also stopped laughing, and was now looking at him with wide, questioning eyes, his lips slightly parted, his own chest heaving with unsteady breaths.

Without thinking about it, Mickey pushed himself away from the wall and turned fully towards Ian. He pressed a hand to Ian's firm chest and pushed Ian fully back against the wall.

"You're fucking amazing, you know that," Mickey rasped as he reached his hand up and cupped it over Ian's cheek, his thumb smoothing over Ian's cheekbone. "Fuck, look at you." He dropped his hand to Ian's chest, unable to stop himself as he placed his palm over Ian's heart and swiped his thumb over the hard nipple that was poking through Ian's shirt, just begging to be touched.

Ian visibly swallowed as his eyes searched Mickey's face. "M-maybe I should go," Ian said unconvincingly as his eyes dropped to Mickey's lips. "I should go…before we do something we…something we shouldn't."

"Yeah, maybe," Mickey said, his voice husky. He dropped his hand again and placed it on Ian's hip. With his eyes locked on Ian's, he slipped his thumb under the hem of Ian's shirt, and smoothed the pad of his thumb along the waistband of Ian's jeans.

"Mickey," Ian murmured. He pressed his head back against the wall, his chest rising and falling with his quick, shallow breaths.

When Ian didn't say anything further, Mickey lowered his hand and palmed Ian through the front of his jeans, feeling that Ian was already rock hard. "Jesus," Mickey rasped. He braced his free hand against the wall, caging Ian in. He searched Ian's face, watched as Ian's eyes fluttered closed and his lips parted. "Want me to stop?" Mickey asked gravelly.

Ian opened his eyes and stared back at Mickey as the question hung in the air. "Do you want to stop?" he finally asked.

"Fuck no, I don't wanna stop," Mickey breathed out, still palming Ian's cock through his pants.

Ian swallowed again and said, "Then don't."

That was all Mickey needed to hear. He surged forward and pressed his lips to Ian's.

The kiss was immediately hungry and desperate. Ian groaned deep in his throat and grabbed Mickey roughly by the front of his wet shirt with both hands and surged forward, pushing Mickey backwards until Mickey's back was now pressed against the opposite wall of the small space.

Mickey gasped as the air was knocked out of him, and then he immediately dove in for another kiss. He licked his way into Ian's mouth, already addicted to Ian's taste. He reached up and dug his fingers into Ian's wet hair and tugged hard, forcing Ian's mouth away from his and curving Ian's neck back. Mickey leaned in and licked from the hollow between Ian's collarbone and along his throat before crushing their lips together again.

"Mickey," Ian gasped through the hungry kiss as he placed his large hands on Mickey's hips and slid them around to grope Mickey's ass. He pulled Mickey tighter up and against him. "Fuck, I've wanted to get my hands on this ass since the first fucking day I saw you."

"Fuck," Mickey groaned as he pressed even closer against Ian, their dicks rubbing together through their jeans. "Wanna take this upstairs?" Mickey murmured as he went to work on Ian's neck; placing soft, moist kisses against his damp skin. He wanted to devour the other man and take his sweet time with him simultaneously.

Mickey felt Ian suddenly tense against him, and he pulled back.

"Fuck. Fuck…I should go," Ian rasped, his voice barely audible. "I should really fucking go. Right now. I shouldn't be here. I can't—we can't do this."

Mickey pressed his forehead to Ian's and reluctantly nodded. "Okay," he whispered, every nerve ending in his body tingling. "Okay. You're right."

"I'm sorry," Ian whispered, and then pulled away. "I…I have to go. Fuck."

Mickey lifted his eyes and watched as Ian walked right out the door without another word and back out into the pouring rain. He slumped back against the wall and ran a shaky hand down his face. "Fuck," he muttered, trying to process what had just happened.

Once he regained use of his legs and he was able to breathe properly again, Mickey went up to his apartment and slipped inside. He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, and then stood awkwardly in the middle of the room; his body still reeling, his lips still tingling.

He numbly walked to the fridge and scanned the contents, looking but not really seeing anything. Before he knew what was happening, he leaned back against the counter and ran a shaky hand down his face, everything hitting him all at once full force.

He knew he had just royally fucked up, because not only did he just fucking kiss and grope an engaged man and risk losing his friendship with Ian entirely, but he had fucking loved kissing Ian and he wanted nothing more than to do it again and again. Mickey knew now, without a doubt, that he would do whatever the fuck Ian Gallagher wanted him to do, and it terrified him to know that someone had that kind of power over him.

He pushed away from the counter and grabbed a beer, fully intent on getting drunk and high out of his mind tonight.

As he was walking towards his bedroom to change into dry clothes, a knock on the door stalled him.

Mickey walked to the door and opened it to find Ian standing on the other side.

They stared at each other, the air thick around them.

"I changed my mind," Ian said after a loaded pause, before surging forward, cupping Mickey's face in his large hands, and swooping down to capture Mickey's lips in a searing, rough kiss.

With their lips still locked, Mickey pushed the door shut and leaned forward to latch the chain. He grabbed Ian by the hip and guided them backwards while Ian chased Mickey with his mouth, so that Mickey could place his unwanted beer safely on the counter. Once Mickey's hands were finally free, he slid his palms up Ian's chest and wrapped his arms around Ian's neck. He pressed up and against Ian, unable to get close enough to him.

Ian grabbed handfuls of Mickey's ass and roughly hoisted him up onto the kitchen island as if Mickey weighed nothing. He swallowed Mickey's satisfied groan and maneuvered his way between Mickey's legs, still not breaking the intense kiss.

Mickey reached down between them and grabbed for Ian's shirt, and then peeled the damp fabric up and off of Ian's wet skin before tossing it aside. "Fuck," Mickey moaned before leaning down and flicking his tongue against Ian's hard nipple. "You're amazing," he murmured, sprinkling soft kisses along Ian's chest and sternum.

Ian moaned and gripped the back of Mickey's head as he watched Mickey's lips pressing against his flushed skin. "I want you. Fuck, Mickey, I want you."

Mickey grabbed Ian's hand and placed it over his hard cock that was straining against the front of his jeans. "Yeah? See what you do to me?" Mickey rasped as he touched his forehead to Ian's.

Ian sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he palmed Mickey.

"It's all yours," Mickey murmured. He cupped Ian's face in his hands and smoothed his thumbs over Ian's cheeks before leaning in for another kiss. This time, the kiss was slow and lazy and searching; the kind of kiss Mickey had never had any interest in before. But with Ian, it was different…everything was different with Ian.

The door to the apartment was suddenly opening, but the chain stopped it from opening more than a few inches.

Ian and Mickey flew apart, unseen.

"Mickey, open the goddamn door! I'm fucking drenched out here, asshole," Mandy called out. "Don't tell me you have another one of your fuck buddies over. That's like the fifth guy this week! Keep your damn dick in your pants!"

Mickey closed his eyes and exhaled unsteadily, his sister's words hanging awkwardly in the air. When he opened his eyes, he was faced with a sight that hurt his heart.

Judging by the look on Ian's face, he had clearly heard every word Mandy said…and he was devastated.

"Ian," Mickey began as he reached out to grab Ian's arm.

Ian pulled his arm away from Mickey's reach. "No, it's cool. It's cool," he murmured, bending down to pick his wet shirt up from the floor. "You're fucking other guys. It's cool. It's none of my business…it's good, actually."

Mickey watched Ian hopelessly, not knowing what to say to rectify the situation. "Look, I—"

"Seriously," Ian interrupted flatly, avoiding Mickey's eyes. "It's fine. You can fuck whoever you want. You and I aren't anything to each other, right. I mean, I'm engaged. I'd be a fucking hypocrite if I expected you to not be fucking anyone else." Ian's voice quivered as he spoke and slipped his shirt on.

"Ian—"

"Mickey, put your dick away and open up the goddamn door, Jesus!"

Mickey watched Ian for a few heartbeats more, before turning stiffly to walk to the door to allow Mandy to enter.

Mandy barged in. "About fucking time, asshole! I gotta tell you, I really love being locked out of my own fucking apart—" She paused her rant when she saw Ian standing in the middle of the living room; his clothes damp and askew, his hair tousled, and his lips swollen. "—fuck."

"I was just leaving," Ian muttered before brushing past Mickey and heading out the door.

Mickey closed his eyes and dropped his head. He rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

"Don't tell me you did what I think you did," Mandy began, her voice stern.

"Not that it's any of your business, but we didn't sleep together, alright?" Mickey snapped.

"No, but you would have, wouldn't you? If I wouldn't have interrupted."

"Fuck off," he said miserably, not in the mood for the third degree.

"Mickey, what are you—"

"I know, alright!" Mickey exclaimed, spinning to face her. "I fucking know! I'm an asshole for pursuing an engaged man! I'm an asshole for potentially ruining someone else's life. I should stay away from him, I should leave him the fuck alone, but I fucking can't, alright? I'm fucking…I'm in love with the fucking guy!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Mickey wished with everything in him that he could take them back. He turned his back to his sister, not even wanting to see her expression. He already knew he was a piece of shit.

"Shit," Mandy said after a long, tense pause. "I didn't—I didn't know. I thought you just wanted to fuck him. But…love? Fuck, Mickey."

Mickey gripped the back of the chair he was standing in front of and hung his head.

"I don't know what to say," Mandy continued. "Do whatever you think you have to do. Just…be careful." She paused before saying, "You know you'll probably end up getting hurt, right. You know that, don't you? Jesus, Mickey…there's a reason he's marrying that guy!"

"You don't think I fuckin' know that?" Mickey said weakly. He let out a shaky exhale. "What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

Mandy sighed. "I wish I knew what to tell you. But this seems to be one giant shit pile you're going to have to dig yourself out of."

"Yeah, thanks for the fuckin' help," Mickey snapped, and then watched as Mandy headed towards her room. He grabbed his phone from his back pocket and hastily sent Ian a message: come back so we can talk about this.

Twenty seconds later, he got a response: fuck u.


	10. Lying Naked On The Floor

Ian entered the empty penthouse and leaned back against the closed door. He shivered and his teeth chattered. He was completely soaked from head to toe from his walk home in the relentless downpour outside.

Instead of moving away from the door and getting changed into drier, warmer clothes, he slowly slid down the length of the door until his butt hit the floor. He pulled his knees tight to his chest, and buried his face against them as silent sobs shook his shoulders.

His phone vibrated in his pocket a minute later, and he numbly reached to grab it, vaguely thinking it was a small miracle that it wasn't soaked like the rest of him.

It was a text message from Mickey: Ian please call me. I need to talk to u

Ian let out a heavy puff of air and considered his next move for only a handful of seconds before pressing the call button.

It took the other man four rings to answer. "Ian?"

"Hey," Ian said miserably.

"What's wrong?" Ayden asked breathlessly. "It's late. Are you alright?"

"No," Ian answered hoarsely, "not really. I'm not alright."

"Have you been crying? What's wrong?"

Ian swiped a hand down his face and sighed. "Just woke up from a really long, bad dream," he said sullenly.

"Sorry to hear that. Are you okay? What's up?"

"When you get back, let's…let's go away for a few days, okay," Ian blurted, his eyes still swimming with tears. "Let's just pack a bag, and rent a hotel room somewhere, and just…spend time together, be together."

The other end was silent for a small stretch of time before Ayden sighed. "Ian, you know I can't just pack up and go. Not now. I have this campaign I'm working on, and I have to—"

"Please don't fucking say no to me," Ian choked out. "You've been saying that shit to me way too often these days. Don't fucking tell me no. I need this, Ayden. We need this. If you fucking love me at all, you'd—"

"Alright, Ian. Alright, okay? We'll get away for a couple nights, just you and me. I promise."

Ian closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, letting out a watery sigh.

A small part of Ian did want to work on things with Ayden, to try to get back what they'd once had; to get back what used to be really fucking good between them.

The other, larger part of him was desperate to stop hurting.

Ever since Mickey Milkovich came into the picture, Ian felt like he had no control over his life anymore, no control over anything. Mickey had turned everything on its head, and Ian desperately had to get everything back to the way it was…back when everything was safe and easy and in place and recognizable.

He especially couldn't lose everything over a guy who obviously didn't care about him as much as he cared about Mickey.

Just thinking about Mickey fucking other guys caused Ian's stomach to churn again, and Ian squeezed his eyes shut against another onslaught of tears. "Just you and me?" he said to his awaiting fiancé.

"Just you and me," Ayden confirmed. "Look, I really have to go. Get some sleep. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah," Ian said weakly, only in the very back of his mind wondering what could have Ayden so busy at ten o'clock at night. After saying their goodbyes, Ian glanced down at his phone to see that another text message from Mickey had come through: i'm sorry just call me

Ian knew deep down that Mickey had no reason to be sorry. Mickey didn't owe Ian anything. They weren't together. Mickey could fuck a hundred guys in a week right in front of Ian, and it didn't have anything to do with him.

That didn't stop it from hurting like a bitch.

Ian's thumb lightly skimmed over the reply button before ultimately settling on delete.

* * *

After taking the hottest shower that he could stand, Ian was making his way to the kitchen to grab a bottled water from the fridge. A knock on the door caused him to stop dead in his tracks with a frown. Who the hell would just show up at his place at ten-thirty at night, unannounced?

He was still damp and wearing only a towel, and contemplated just letting whomever it was at the door wait while he got dressed. He sighed and decided to just open the door and give whomever it was a free show, and instantly regretted that decision when he saw that it was Mickey on the other side.

Ian froze, forgetting how to breathe for a moment as beautiful blue eyes regarded him sadly.

"Hey," Mickey said huskily before chewing on his lower lip.

"What are you doing here?"

"You weren't answering my calls, so I decided to pull one of your own moves on you and stalk you," Mickey said, smiling faintly.

Ian looked down at the floor, not returning Mickey's smile. "How did you know which penthouse was mine?"

"The doorman told me."

"Great. I'll have to remember to thank my highly-paid doorman for letting just anyone on the street up to my place," Ian said flatly, still avoiding Mickey's eyes.

"So, I'm just some random guy from the street now, huh?"

"Honestly, Mickey, I don't know what the fuck you are," Ian answered bitterly, finally looking Mickey straight in the eye. "I mean…are you my wedding planner, are you my friend…or do you just wanna fuck me, huh? Which is it?"

Mickey let out a sigh and tilted his head with a click of his tongue. "Come on, man. It's not like that."

"You should go." Ian braced his hand up on the wall next to the door, and then rested his forehead against his forearm. "You shouldn't be here, Mickey. I don't wanna do this with you."

"Aye, man. Stop with the shitty attitude, alright? You have no reason to be upset with me!" Mickey exclaimed. "We're not together, Ian. We're not together and I'm sorry. I don't know what else you want me to fucking say here."

"I don't want you to say anything," Ian snapped. "I want you to go."

"That's what you really want?" Mickey asked after a short pause.

Ian let out a shaky breath, turned away from the door, and walked away a few steps. After a long awkward pause, he turned back to look at Mickey, his expression softened.

"Look, I know. I know I don't have a right to be mad. You could fuck a guy right in front of me and I can't say shit." He watched as Mickey swallowed and looked down at the floor. "Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt," his voice shook on the last word, despite his best attempt to keep his voice steady.

Mickey lifted his head and they locked eyes. He stepped fully inside the penthouse, and shut the door behind him. "Ian, I…fuck. Look…I only fucked those guys to get over you." Mickey tentatively took a step forward. "I can't get you out of my fucking head. Fucking other dudes is the only thing I can think to do to stop thinking about you, and even that doesn't fucking work." He took another step, and then another until he was standing right in front of Ian, their bodies just inches apart.

Ian sucked in a breath and closed his eyes when Mickey reached up to caress his cheek. He stood frozen, his heart hammering in his chest, as Mickey leaned in.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Mickey murmured as he leaned in and pressed his forehead to Ian's. He pulled away in the next instant, and removed his hand from Ian's face.

Ian's eyes fluttered open and he stared down at Mickey. "I know. I know you didn't mean to hurt me…but I am. That's the fucking problem. That's why we can't be around each other anymore, Mickey," he finally said, saying the words that should have been said weeks ago, before everything spun so out of control. "That's the smart thing to do, to just walk away. I'm the one who should stop it before it goes further. I'm the one getting married in two weeks."

Mickey closed his eyes and hung his head.

"We can't see each other anymore. You can't be my wedding planner. It's probably best if we just cut all ties completely," Ian's voice shook as he spoke. "Things have just gotten way too complicated."

"Ian—"

Ian's body moved before his mind had time to catch up. He stepped towards Mickey and cupped Mickey's face in his hands. He pressed their foreheads together.

"Please just go, Mickey," Ian murmured. "I can't do this anymore. I'm fucked up enough in the head as it is. I can't be with Ayden and constantly think about you. I can't keep thinking about wanting to kiss you, wanting to fuck you. I can't keep thinking about you when I fuck him. I can't constantly wonder what you're doing when I'm not with you, or who you're doing it with. Okay? I got enough shit to deal with. I can't do it anymore. Just go. Please. Go."

Mickey reached up and grabbed onto Ian's wrists that were still holding his face. "I can't just fucking walk away from you, Ian."

"You have to."

"I can't," Mickey rasped as he slowly rocked his forehead against Ian's. Mickey dropped his hands and placed them on Ian's bare hips right above his towel. "You don't think I fucking tried? That's all I've been doing. I can't just walk away."

Ian's breath hitched as Mickey's thumbs softly caressed his bare hip bones.

"Not now," Mickey said huskily, his warm breath brushing over Ian's bare chest as he spoke. "I'm in too deep." They continued to press into each other as Mickey's words hung in the silence.

"Mick," Ian finally murmured, his voice pleading.

Mickey let out a strangled breath, and then nodded his forehead softly against Ian's. "Okay," he finally relented. "Okay, I'll go. If that's what you really want, I'll go. I'll walk away."

He reluctantly stepped away from Ian, and removed his hands from Ian's waist, breaking all contact. He scrubbed a hand down his face and blinked away the moisture in his eyes before moving to step around Ian to leave. Before he could get too far, Ian reached out and grabbed Mickey's wrist, stopping him.

"Don't."

Mickey's heart skipped in his chest as he stared down at Ian's hand. He swallowed thickly and asked, "Don't what?"

"Don't go," Ian answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mickey lifted his eyes to Ian's and slowly turned to fully face him.

"Just for tonight, okay?" Ian said, his tone unsteady. "Just tonight."

Mickey nodded and took a step closer. "Just tonight," he agreed. His eyes dropped to Ian's mouth, and he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Ian's lips.

When they pulled back from the kiss, Ian chuckled breathlessly, nervously.

With his eyes locked on Ian's, Mickey reached down between them and slowly undid Ian's towel, letting it fall to the floor at their feet. He looked down and took in the sight of Ian's dick, which was already rock hard. "Fuck," he breathed as he wrapped a hand around the back of Ian's neck and pressed their foreheads together.

"Can I touch you?" Mickey murmured, their breath hot and mingling in the small space that separated them.

Ian nodded against Mickey's forehead, and then groaned when Mickey's hand wrapped around his dick. "Fuck, Mickey." He grabbed a hold of Mickey's shoulders and looked down to watch as Mickey slowly began stroking him.

With their foreheads still pressed together, Mickey jerked Ian off, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing and the soft thap thap thap of Mickey's hand working on Ian's dick.

"Shit, Mickey," Ian gasped out. In the deep recesses of his mind, he knew it wasn't right; knew he should stop Mickey before it went even further, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. Couldn't bring himself to let Mickey walk out the door. Instead, Ian held on tighter to Mickey's shoulders and fucked himself into Mickey's fist.

Mickey leaned in the few inches that separated their mouths and kissed Ian softly. "I wanna taste you," he murmured against Ian's mouth before kissing him again, this time pressing his tongue to the crease of Ian's lips before Ian opened, letting Mickey in.

Ian kissed Mickey back and didn't say anything, couldn't speak at the moment. Instead, he nodded and then opened his eyes to watch as Mickey sank down to his knees in front of him.

Mickey locked eyes with Ian as he gripped the base of Ian's cock. He leaned in and touched the tip of his tongue to the head, catching a bead of pre-come.

"Shit," Ian groaned as he threaded his fingers through Mickey's hair. He then feathered his fingertips over Mickey's cheeks as he stared down at him.

Mickey opened wide and took Ian in as far as he could, relaxing his throat. He reached around and grabbed handfuls of Ian's ass to hold the younger man to him, wanting to take Ian as deep as possible.

"Fucking amazing mouth," Ian moaned as he slowly began shallowly fucking into Mickey's mouth, holding Mickey's head steady with his hands.

Mickey kept his head still and allowed Ian to take control, all the while keeping their eyes locked.

Ian gripped Mickey's hair with one hand and forced Mickey's head back gently. He then grabbed his dick with his free hand and slowly dragged the wet tip of his dick along Mickey's lips. He then eased his dick back into Mickey's warm, inviting mouth.

As Mickey sucked and moaned around Ian's dick, he reached down and rubbed his own cock through his sweatpants, anxious to get some sort of relief of his own.

Ian looked down and watched with hooded eyes as Mickey palmed himself as he sucked Ian off. "Get up," Ian rasped, reaching down to grab under Mickey's arm. He was done holding back. They had already passed the point of no return.

Mickey stood up and was immediately pulled against Ian, the air being pulled from his lungs as Ian kissed him hungrily, with a fierceness he didn't think Ian had in him. He felt large hands gripping his waist, and he was suddenly being pushed backwards. They stumbled and kissed sloppily until Mickey's butt hit against something hard.

In one swift motion, Ian lifted Mickey up onto the counter island, never once breaking the heated, desperate kiss.

Mickey arched into the kiss and ran his hands through Ian's hair. He wrapped his legs around Ian's waist and pressed as close as he could until his cock was rubbing against Ian's stomach through his sweatpants. "Fuck," he gasped at the contact; wanting more, wanting so much fucking more, wanting it all.

With a hand pressed to Mickey's chest, Ian forced him backwards until Mickey was lying flat on his back on the counter. Ian locked eyes with Mickey and smirked down at him as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of Mickey's sweats and boxers. He pulled the articles of clothing down and off, leaving Mickey fully exposed from the waist down, his cock hard.

Mickey lifted his head, held his breath, and watched as Ian swooped in to start feathering soft, teasing kisses over his bare thighs. Mickey's head thumped back hard on the granite counter top. "Fuck," he murmured.

Ian smiled against Mickey's skin as he continued sprinkling teasing kisses on every inch of Mickey's thighs, making sure to avoid his leaking dick.

"Fuck, Ian," Mickey gasped impatiently, bucking his hips.

Ian held Mickey back down. He then grabbed Mickey's knees and spread them apart, opening Mickey up to him. He leaned down and touched his tongue to Mickey's perineum.

"Ian," Mickey groaned and grabbed fistfuls of Ian's hair. When Ian's tongue and mouth moved over his balls, he bucked up and immediately froze as Ian's tight, wet mouth finally engulfed his cock.

Ian held Mickey's hips flat to the counter as he bobbed his mouth on Mickey's cock. He pulled back and flicked his tongue over the spongy head before locking eyes with Mickey. "I bet none of the guys you were with sucked your dick like this, did they?"

"Christ," Mickey groaned breathlessly. He watched with hooded eyes as Ian sucked him off.

"No one made you come like I'm going to," Ian murmured.

Mickey grabbed Ian's hair and shallowly fucked up into Ian's mouth as he felt his orgasm building. Just as Mickey was sputtering and about to come, Ian pulled his mouth away and continued jerking Mickey off with his hand.

"Come for me, Mick," Ian choked out.

"Fuck!" Mickey yelled just as he spilled hot spurts of come into Ian's fist. Mickey sat up suddenly and wrapped a hand around the back of Ian's neck, pulling Ian in for a hungry kiss, their tongues tangling and teeth biting at lips.

"I'll be right back," Ian said breathlessly against Mickey's mouth before pulling away.

Mickey watched as Ian walked away, his eyes taking in the sight of Ian's bare ass. Moments later, Ian returned with lube and a condom. Mickey smiled just as Ian leaned in to kiss him.

Ian gasped as the kiss grew desperate. He wrapped a strong arm around Mickey, and hefted him up off the counter and lowered them both to the floor. "Wanna fuck you," he rasped as he positioned himself between Mickey's legs. He pulled away from the kiss, and sat back to roll the condom on and squirt lube into his palm. With their eyes locked, he gently pushed two slicked fingers into Mickey while his other hand wrapped around Mickey's dick.

"Fuck, Ian," Mickey moaned. "Just do it, I'm good."

"Yeah?" Ian breathed out. Unable to wait any longer, he gently pressed and rocked into Mickey with a satisfied groan.

Mickey wrapped his legs around Ian and dug his fingers into Ian's back as he adjusted. "Jesus," he sobbed against Ian's shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Mickey panted. "I'm okay."

Ian buried his face in the crook of Mickey's neck as he established a quick, shallow pace. "You feel so fucking good."

Mickey was panting and writhing beneath as Ian thrust relentlessly.

Ian grabbed Mickey's hands and pinned them down to the luxury vinyl of the kitchen floor. He stared down at Mickey beneath him, their eyes locking. "I've wanted this for too fucking long," he said breathlessly.

"I wanted this since the first moment I fucking saw you," Mickey rasped.

Ian pulled Mickey up from the floor in one swift motion so that Mickey was now bouncing in Ian's lap. He wrapped his arms around Mickey, and buried his face in the crook of Mickey's neck.

"You feel so fucking amazing," Mickey muttered hotly against his ear. "I love your cock. Fuck. No one else fucks me like this."

Ian let out a strangled moan as Mickey's words sent him over the edge, and Ian froze as he came.

Mickey wrapped his arms tighter around Ian's shoulders and continued riding Ian through his orgasm.

Once he was spent, Ian pressed a wet kiss to Mickey's lips as he carefully maneuvered Mickey back to the floor, and he pulled out to lie next to him. Both stared up at the ceiling, their chests heaving as they struggled to catch their breaths.

The last thing Mickey remembered was rolling over and throwing an arm across Ian's chest, and a pair of warm, soft lips brushing against his sweaty forehead.

* * *

Mickey's eyes fluttered open to see daylight.

It took a minute for his vision to fully focus and, when it did, he was faced with Ian's sleeping face just inches from his.

Mickey couldn't stop the small smile pulling at his lips as the events from the night before came flooding back. He had never felt better, more satisfied, in his entire life.

He leaned in the few inches that separated them and placed a soft kiss on Ian's forehead. When Ian remained still, Mickey kissed Ian's cheek, and then he pressed a kiss to the tip of Ian's nose.

Ian finally began to stir and his eyes opened into slits. He stared back at Mickey for a few heartbeats. Finally, he smiled gently and leaned in, burrowing his face in Mickey's neck.

Mickey grinned, finding the whole thing to be achingly adorable. A few hours earlier, Ian had been pounding him relentlessly as he whispered filthy things into Mickey's ear; now Ian wanted to play shy?

"Mornin'," Mickey said huskily, still smiling.

"G'morning," Ian mumbled, finally lifting his head and looking around. "Are we really sleeping on the kitchen floor?"

"You wore us both out," Mickey said, aching to reach up and touch Ian's face, maybe run his hands through Ian's ruffled hair, but he refrained. "Didn't feel like movin'"

Ian turned his gaze to Mickey and smiled again, leaving Mickey no other choice but to finally caress his cheek and lean in for a kiss. Ian relaxed back against the floor, pulling Mickey on top of him.

"You ready to go again?" Mickey asked, kissing down Ian's chin, over his throat, and then latching his mouth on the skin beneath Ian's ear.

Ian moaned as he ran a hand through Mickey's hair, keeping him close. "Just don't leave any marks, okay?"

Mickey murmured against Ian's neck as he kept pressing random, open-mouthed kisses against Ian's skin, unable to get enough. He was already addicted to the man beneath him. He knew it was dangerous and incredibly fucking foolish, but he was too far gone to turn back now. He was going to take whatever Ian was willing to give him.

He reached down and palmed Ian's dick, secretly pleased that Ian was already hard for him. "Think we have time for another round?"

Ian didn't answer, only grabbed the back of Mickey's head and pulled him in for another kiss. The kiss was slow and lazy, the tips of their tongues tangling as they slowly began rocking against each other.

Mickey pulled back from the kiss just enough so that he could stare down into Ian's face. His chest tightened with emotion. Mickey reached up and brushed his thumb along Ian's cheekbone.

Ian visibly swallowed as he stared back.

Just then, Ian's phone vibrated on the kitchen counter.

"You need to get that?" Mickey asked huskily.

"Nope," Ian said with a pop of his lips before pulling Mickey down for another kiss. When his phone went off a second time a couple moments later, Ian groaned and gently pushed at Mickey's chest. "Hold on. I'll be quick."

Mickey rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow, his eyes sliding over Ian's naked body appreciatively.

Ian threw Mickey a sexy glance over his shoulder before grabbing his phone. His face immediately dropped when he saw who was calling. "Shit." He turned around and brought the phone to his ear. "Hey. Yeah. Yeah. Now?"

Mickey sat upright when he sensed Ian's distress. He stood up and began gathering his clothes.

"Okay…you too," Ian mumbled before ending the call and slowly turning to face Mickey. "You, uh, you should go."

Mickey felt like he'd gotten punched in the gut.

"That was Ayden," Ian said before running a hand over his face. "Fuck!" he exclaimed. "I called him last night when I was upset, after I left your place. He…he took the red eye a couple hours ago from New York. He's on his way home now from the fucking airport."

Mickey watched as Ian paced back and forth. He tugged his jeans on and then pulled his shirt down over his head with stiff movements, not knowing what to say or do. The last thing he wanted to do was walk out the door.

Ian stopped pacing and faced Mickey, his face softening. "What we did last night…it can't happen again, okay? Can we just pretend it never happened? Please? It was just a one-night thing, right? We both agreed on that?"

Mickey stared blankly back at him, crushed.

Ian tilted his head. "Mickey, don't look at me like that, okay? You knew what last night was. You—"

"Nah, man, I get it," Mickey said flatly. "I fucking get it. Let me get out of here before your fiancé gets here." Mickey began moving past Ian, but Ian caught Mickey's arm before he could get far.

"Hey," Ian said softly. "Look at me, Mickey."

Mickey froze, and then softened under Ian's scrutiny. "I fucking get it, alright," he finally said after a long pause. He shook his arm from Ian's grasp. "I get it. We'll go on and act like nothing happened. Whatever." Mickey walked to the door and left without another word.

After taking a quick shower, Ian was sitting at the counter island when Ayden walked through the door a little while later. He looked up and forced a small smile for his fiancé's benefit. "Hey."

Ayden dropped his luggage next to the door and walked over to Ian. Without saying a word, he cupped Ian's face in his hands and kissed him softly on the mouth.

When Ayden pulled away, Ian looked at him dumbly.

"I'm sorry," Ayden said, smoothing his thumbs over Ian's cheeks. "When I hung up with you last night, I couldn't stop thinking about what you said. You're right. I've been saying no to you way too often lately. I want to change that. I want to work on us."

Ian's heart sank as Ayden's words registered.

Ayden pulled Ian close and pressed a kiss to his temple.

Even as Ayden hugged him tight and whispered sweet-nothings into his ear, Ian couldn't help but think about the way Mickey's mouth had felt on his; how good it had felt buried deep inside Mickey. He couldn't help but think about how waking up next to Mickey that morning had seemed more right and more perfect than anything in his life ever had.

Ayden finally pulled away from the embrace and smiled down at Ian. "You and me."

"You and me," Ian said back with a small, forced smile.

As soon as Ayden turned his back to head towards the bathroom, the smile slipped from Ian's face.


	11. Cruel To Be Kind

Ian had a feeling Mickey was avoiding him.

It had been two days since Ian last seen or spoken to him.

After dropping by Mickey and Mandy's apartment to no avail, and checking the diner to find out that Mickey was off for the day, Ian headed to Mickey's small office where he did his wedding planning, hoping to catch Mickey there.

He pulled open the door and was greeted by the same blonde woman who had greeted him that first day he had walked through that door; the day that had essentially changed his life.

"Hi," the woman said with a bright smile that quickly faltered upon recognizing him. "Oh…hi." Her eyes darted towards the back of the small office space and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Uh, how can I help you?"

"I'm lookin' for Mickey, actually," Ian said, wondering why the woman was acting so strange. He wiped at his mouth, wondering if he had some mustard there from the hot dog he had devoured on the way over.

"Do you have an appointment with us today?" the woman asked a little too sweetly, looking down at her appointment book and nervously biting down on her pen.

"No, no appointment. We're, uh…we're friends. I really need to talk to him about something important. Is he here?"

Just then, Mandy came walking up from the back, her eyes downcast as she scanned over some papers in her hands.

"Em, can you call mister Andrews over at Just Flowers and ask him if he has—" Mandy immediately paused and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Ian standing there. "Ian. Hey. You're here. What are you doing here?"

"Hey," Ian said with a weak smile. He frowned as he noticed the strange look Mandy and Emily exchanged.

"What are you doing here?" Mandy asked again.

"I need to talk to Mickey about something. Is he around?"

"He stepped out for a bit," Mandy said slowly. "I'll let him know you stopped by, though. I'll have him call you as soon as he gets back."

"Yeah, I tried that. He's not exactly returning my calls or texts." Ian walked over to one of the chairs lining the wall and sat down. "I'll just sit here and wait for him to get back, if that's okay."

"It might be awhile," Mandy said, perhaps a little too quickly. "He has a full day booked. He's a pretty busy guy…you know, with all the wedding planning he does."

Ian shrugged. "I don't have anywhere else to be right now. I can wait."

Mandy smiled at him, and it seemed to be a bit forced, but Ian decided not to question it. "Okay," she said. "I'm just going to run in the back and…take care of something."

Ian watched as Mandy turned and hurried towards the back of the office. He then looked over at Emily, who quickly looked down before his eyes could land on her. He couldn't help but frown, wondering what the hell was going on, and why everyone was acting so fucking weird.

* * *

Mickey felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he ignored it. He rested his head back against the brick wall behind him and closed his eyes, trying once again to get lost in the moment.

His phone went off again a minute later, and the guy who was on his knees in front of him pulled his mouth away from Mickey's cock with a wet pop, and looked up at Mickey irritably. "You wanna get that? It's kinda distracting."

Mickey grabbed the back of the guy's head and pushed him forward. "Did I say you could stop?" he snapped. He sneered down at the guy as he reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone. When he saw that it was his sister calling (and not Ian), he answered. "The fuck do you want?"

"You need to get your ass down here, now!"

"Sorry, can't…I'm busy," Mickey said bluntly as he gripped the guy's head with his free hand and fucked into his mouth, not caring that his sister was on the other end.

"Ian is here!" Mandy spat, her voice a coarse whisper. "He's here at my fucking office looking for you and he's not leaving."

At this, Mickey straightened up and reached down to grab the guy's hair, pulling the warm mouth abruptly away from his cock. "What the fuck do you mean Ian's there?"

"The fuck else would I mean by that, dipshit?" Mandy spat. "Get your ass here now, unless you want me to tell him everything."

It was on the tip of Mickey's tongue to tell her to just go ahead and tell Ian everything, to end this thing once and for all, but instead he said, "Fine, give me ten fucking minutes. Jesus." Mickey hung up and then rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Fuck."

The guy Mickey had randomly picked up at the bar on his way home from work stood up and wiped at his wet chin. "So, are we done here?" he asked haughtily. "You didn't even come."

"Yeah, we're done," Mickey said flatly as he tucked himself back into his pants and zipped up. He barely acknowledged the guy leaving the alley. He scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned.

Seeing Ian was the last thing he wanted to do.

* * *

Ian was bored out of his mind and was keeping himself busy by picking at his thumb. When the door finally opened, he looked up to find Mickey sauntering in. His heart immediately sped up at the sight of the other man and he stood up abruptly.

"Hey."

"Aye," Mickey said curtly, refusing to meet Ian's eyes.

"Where have you been? I've been calling and texting you. I went to your place, went to the diner—"

"And you still can't take a fucking hint, can you?" Mickey snapped.

Ian frowned and recoiled a little at Mickey's harsh tone. He was vaguely aware of Emily standing up slowly from her seat.

"I think I'm going to go take my break now," Emily said before moving between the two infuriated men and pushing through the door to go outside, leaving them alone.

Ian watched as Mickey crossed his arms and leaned back casually against the desk, still refusing to look at him. After a long pause, Ian asked, "So, that's it then?"

"Yeah," Mickey said flatly, his eyebrows shooting upwards. "That's it."

Ian chuckled dryly and shook his head incredulously. After a pause, he said, "You sleep with me, you got what you wanted, and now it's over…just like that? No conversation, no nothing?"

Mickey was finally looking at Ian now, but his stare was anything but kind. "Oh, fuck off," he spat venomously. "That wasn't what the fuck that was and you know it."

"Then tell me how it was, Mickey!" Ian exclaimed, his voice wavering. "You sleep with me, and then you ignore me? What the fuck am I supposed to think!"

"Oh, excuse the fuck outta me, asshole! You fucked me and tossed me out the next morning like fucking trash."

"What the hell was I supposed to do!" Ian yelled back. "Ayden was on his way home. I didn't know he was coming back that early! I was just as surprised as you were!"

Mickey pushed away from the desk, shaking his head curtly. "What the fuck ever. I'm done. This," he said, waving a hand between them, "is done. Go back to your rich fucking sugar daddy, your fancy penthouse and million dollar wardrobe, and leave me the fuck alone. You're done slummin' it."

"Slumming it?" Ian began, his eyebrows furrowing. "What the hell are you talking ab—"

"Get the fuck out."

Ian bit his lower lip, trying to keep his tears at bay. After a brief stare down, he finally nodded and hung his head. "Okay. Got it. I'll leave you alone." He turned and headed for the door.

"It's better this way," Mickey called out flatly. "It never should've happened to begin with! I shoulda just walked the fuck away from your ass a long time ago."

Ian didn't say anything, only hesitated for a few seconds with his back to Mickey, before finally pushing his way out the door.

Mandy came out from her hiding spot in the back a few moments later, having heard everything, and regarded her brother sadly. "You okay?"

Mickey was leaning back against the desk, rubbing at his bleary eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Yeah," he answered sharply, before straightening up and sniffing. "You gotta be cruel to be fucking kind, right? Isn't that what they say?"

"Mick—"

"It's over. It's done," Mickey said flatly, even though his eyes shone with emotion. "Time for me to finally move the fuck on. I'll see you later back at the place." He pushed his way outside, refusing to let his sister see that he was hurting a lot more than he was letting on.

* * *

The next night, Mickey was standing in the back alley of the diner, puffing on a cigarette and mentally counting down the hours until his twelve hour shift was finally over.

He looked up when the door opened to find that Jermaine was joining him for a smoke. "What's up, man," he muttered amicably.

"Mickey, my dude!" Jermaine singsonged as he cupped his hand around his cigarette to light it. After a long drag, he asked, "You comin' out with us tonight for some drinks? We need it after this fucking day."

"Nah, man," Mickey said, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand. "Not really up for going out tonight," he finished, knowing he was most likely just going to lounge on his couch for the night and drink beer after beer, and pretend he wasn't thinking about a certain fucking redhead.

"Ah, come on, man. Just stop for a few. We're hitting up that club we went to a couple weeks back, the Fairy Tail? Hey, maybe your hot bartender friend will be there, and he can hook us up with some free drinks again," Jermaine finished, hitting Mickey on the chest with the back of his hand.

Mickey mindlessly toyed with his cigarette between his lips as he contemplated Jermaine's offer.

On one hand, Mickey knew he should stay far the fuck away from Ian and the Fairy Tail. On the other hand—the more persuasive hand—he couldn't really turn down the opportunity to find a warm mouth for the night, maybe even piss Ian off a little in the process.

"Yeah, alright," Mickey found himself saying against his better judgment. "I'm game."

* * *

Ian was mindlessly wiping at the bar top and laughing at a bad joke one of his regulars was telling, and looked up just in time to see Mickey saunter into the club with his group of work friends.

"You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me," Ian mumbled under his breath. He then shook his head, laughed dryly, and started wiping harder at the bar top, wondering to himself what the fuck Mickey was up to.

Just the day before, Mickey'd told Ian to stay the fuck away from him. Tonight, Mickey was at his work. Ian wasn't exactly sure how that was supposed to fucking work.

Sure enough, Mickey and his friends chose to order their drinks at the other end of the bar. Ian was completely okay with that, wanting to avoid Mickey as much as he could.

As pissed off and hurt as Ian was, Ian understood why Mickey had been upset; he understood why Mickey had said the things he'd said. And Ian knew, deep down, that this was for the best. Pissing each other off and staying the hell away from each other was for the best.

Or it had been, until Mickey decided to fucking show up at his job.

Ian went about his business, refilling beers and taking food orders. An hour had gone by and he was doing a really good job of ignoring Mickey completely. That was until he looked up and spotted Mickey a few yards away from the bar, leaning in and smirking seductively as some guy whispered something into his ear.

Ian watched the exchange with growing anger and jealousy. He swallowed down the sour lump in his throat, and turned his back to the display stiffly as he mixed shots for an awaiting customer. When he looked back over his shoulder a minute later, his heart sank down to his stomach when he saw that the guy was now kissing and practically slurping at Mickey's neck, his hand palming the front of Mickey's jeans.

Mickey's head was tipped back, his mouth slack as he palmed the back of the guy's head. Mickey clearly seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Ian muttered. He slammed the cocktail shaker down, walked around the bar, and marched over to the pair. He awkwardly tapped Mickey on the shoulder. "Yeah. Hi," he spat once Mickey turned to look at him. He tried as best he could to ignore Mickey's tousled hair and swollen lips. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"The fuck's it look like I'm doing?" Mickey shot back as the guy kept kissing on Mickey's neck, unperturbed by Ian's interruption.

"Do you really have to fucking do it five feet from where I'm working?" Ian shot back, trying to keep his tone steady, and resisting the overwhelming urge to grab the guy roughly by the hair to pull him away from Mickey.

"It's a public bar," Mickey retorted with a shrug. "Can do what I want."

Ian tilted his head and stared back at Mickey, wishing he would show some decency. "Really? This is really how it's going to be, huh."

He didn't want to show any emotion. In fact, he had every intention on not showing any emotion at all. He wanted Mickey to believe that he was unfazed by all of it. But standing there, so close to Mickey and looking into his eyes while some fucking tweaked-out asshole hung all over him, Ian couldn't help the tears from prickling at the corners of his eyes.

When Mickey arched his brows and didn't say anything more, Ian turned around and tossed his rag onto the bar top before heading back towards the restrooms, needing to collect himself before returning back to work.

Once Ian was back by the restrooms, where he was alone and the music wasn't so loud, he heard someone call out from behind him.

"Aye, you don't get to do this!"

Ian turned around to find that Mickey had followed him. "Do what?" he asked stiffly, spreading his arms open.

"You don't get to fuck me on your kitchen floor, toss me out the next morning like I'm nothing, and then get pissed at me for making out with some dude at a club!"

"Oh, come the fuck on, Mickey," Ian shot back, his face scrunching in irritation. "What was I supposed to do? Keep you around and have Ayden walk in on us? You were there! You made that choice just as much as I did! You knew the consequences!"

Mickey just stared back at Ian as he gnawed on his lower lip.

"You think any of this is easy for me?" Ian asked, his voice quivering with emotion as he took a step closer. "I'm supposed to be getting married in two fucking weeks! You think I like thinking about another guy, dreaming about another guy? Wishing it was another guy under me when I'm fucking my fiancé? You tell me to leave you alone, so I did—even though it's the last thing I wanted to do—I walked away because I know it's the right thing to do, then you show up here and make out with some fucking douchebag right in front of me? What are you trying to prove here, Mickey?"

"Fuck you," Mickey spat, before turning to walk away. "Fuck this, I'm out."

"No, you're not fucking walking away," Ian said, grabbing Mickey by the arm to stop him. "Tell me what you're trying to prove by throwing yourself at some guy right in front of me!"

Mickey shook his arm from Ian's grasp. "Fuck off."

"Fucking tell me!"

"I want you to fucking hurt as much as I am, alright!" Mickey exclaimed, immediately clamping his mouth shut and looking away.

"You don't think I am?" Ian asked after a long, heavy pause. "Christ, Mickey. I'm fucking hurting. I'm hurting because…because I hurt you, and because I'm lying to him, and I put myself in this fucked up situation, and I don't know how to get the fuck out of it! I know I should just move on and let you go, but I can't seem to fucking do that! And I don't need you showing up where I work and rubbing that shit in my goddamn face!"

Mickey slowly lifted his eyes to meet Ian's.

"None of this is easy for me," Ian finished, his voice sad.

Mickey nodded curtly and dropped his gaze to the floor. "Yeah, okay," he said numbly. "I'm just gonna go. You're right. I shouldn't be here." He turned around and was about to head back out to the main floor, but Ian was quicker.

Before either of them could fully grasp what was happening, Ian grabbed Mickey's arm and tugged him backwards, and then pressed him back against the wall. He planted the palms of his hands on the wall behind Mickey's head and caged him in. He touched his forehead to Mickey's and breathed him in. "Don't go," he whispered.

"Ian," Mickey chastised.

"I just...don't go," Ian whispered again before dipping his head and placing his lips tentatively against Mickey's. He removed one of his hands from the wall and slipped it inside Mickey's jacket to grip his waist, pulling Mickey a little closer.

Mickey opened his mouth when Ian licked at his lips, and he groaned when their tongues touched.

Ian slipped his other hand down to Mickey's waist and pulled Mickey fully against him as they kissed lazily. Without a second thought, he maneuvered Mickey to the side a few steps, and then he was pushing them both through the swinging door into the men's restroom and into an empty stall.

After being pressed against the stall door, Mickey pulled away from the heated kiss to gasp for air. He then watched with hooded eyes as Ian dropped down to his knees in front of him.

Ian lifted his eyes and watched Mickey's face as he slowly undid Mickey's belt and zipper, before pulling Mickey's dick out. He pumped a few times and licked slowly up the underside before engulfing Mickey's dick completely.

Mickey ran his fingers through Ian's hair and gripped handfuls of it to guide Ian's mouth. He kept his eyes locked with Ian's and watched as his dick slipped between those pretty pink lips.

Ian grabbed handfuls of Mickey's ass and kneaded the meaty cheeks, moaning around Mickey's cock. He then fingered at Mickey's hole, causing Mickey to let out a guttural moan.

"Christ, Ian," Mickey murmured as he gripped the back of Ian's neck and slowly fucked into Ian's mouth.

Ian pulled away with a wet pop and slipped two fingers into his mouth to coat with spit, and then reached around to ease one finger inside Mickey, and then another until he was fucking Mickey with two fingers, crooking them and massaging against Mickey's prostate. He then moaned and sucked Mickey back down.

Mickey was a mess by that point, panting and grunting and hitting the back of Ian's throat with every desperate thrust. With Ian's throat swallowing around him, and his fingers hitting his prostate, it didn't take long. "Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned only seconds before his hot come spurted down Ian's throat.

Ian swallowed everything Mickey gave him. He then gripped the base of Mickey's dick and stroked it a few times as he lapped and sucked at the spongy head, until Mickey whimpered and bucked from being too sensitive. Ian stood up and pressed his mouth to Mickey's.

Mickey roughly gripped the back of Ian's neck and held him in place as he tongue-fucked Ian's mouth, wanting to taste himself on those lips and that tongue. When they finally broke apart, they touched foreheads, their heavy breathing mingling between them.

"I need to get back to work," Ian murmured regretfully as he clutched at Mickey's shirt.

"And I need to get back to my date," Mickey said breathlessly. On Ian's dark look, he laughed. "Relax, I'm just fuckin' with you."

Ian took a step back and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "You could, you know? You could go be with that other guy. I can't stop you," he said sullenly. "I have no right to stop you."

Mickey thumbed at his lower lip as he regarded Ian wearily. Finally, he sighed and said, "I know you don't…but you're the only person I wanna take home. How fucking sad is that?"

Ian dropped his stare to the floor and cleared his throat. "I, uh, I get off at two."

Mickey stepped forward and reached up to stroke Ian's cheek with his thumb. "You don't have to do this, man."

Ian reached up and placed his hand over Mickey's. "I want to."

"It's not going to solve anything," Mickey said. "In fact, it's only going to make everything a shit ton worse."

"We don't have to figure everything out tonight, do we?" Ian asked. He then closed his eyes when Mickey leaned in and feathered a kiss over his lips.

"You get off at two, huh?"

Ian nodded, his eyes still closed. He then leaned in and kissed Mickey again.

He felt guilty beyond words. He knew he was a piece of shit human being. But the way he felt about Mickey trumped all of that for some reason. The way Mickey made him feel was all that mattered in that moment. "Your place?"

Mickey nodded after a moment's hesitation and leaned in for another kiss. "This is fucking crazy," he murmured.

"I know," Ian breathed.

Mickey took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, you get off in three hours. That's three hours for you to think about this; really think about it. If you don't show up at two, I'll know and we can both just move the fuck on from whatever this is."

Ian nodded and rubbed at the back of his neck.

"Okay?" Mickey asked, reaching out to grip Ian's waist. "Alright?"

"Okay," Ian replied as he leaned in for one final kiss, before Mickey reached behind himself and opened the stall door and then left the bathroom. Ian slumped back against the wall and ran a hand through his hair, knowing he only had a little less than three hours to make the biggest decision of his life.

* * *

Mickey brought his bottle back to his lips and took a swig as he continued pacing back and forth in his small living room. It was twelve minutes after two and Ian still hadn't shown up.

A small part of him was hoping Ian wouldn't show; that finally he would know for sure that it was done and he could move on. The other, larger part of him wanted nothing more than to take that infuriating fucking redhead into his bedroom, disappear under the sheets, and not resurface for days.

Just as he threw his empty beer bottle into the trash and walked to the fridge to grab another, there was a knock on the door.

He froze for a few seconds and ran a shaky hand through his hair, contemplating on whether or not he actually wanted to do this. Having an affair with an engaged man? Definitely not one of his brightest ideas ever.

He sighed and made his way to the door. After opening the door and seeing Ian standing there, looking fresh from a shower and wearing a green shirt that brought out his eyes, he had his answer. He was doing this. Then again, it had never really been a question.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Uh, come in," Mickey said as he stepped to the side to allow Ian to enter.

Ian brushed past him and into the apartment. He looked around. "Is Mandy here?"

"She went to bed a couple hours ago," Mickey answered as he shut the door, his eyes focused on the short hairs at the back of Ian's head.

Ian placed his backpack on the kitchen counter and then turned to look at Mickey. "So, uh, we're really doing this then?"

"You tell me," Mickey said, rubbing at his nose with his thumb.

Ian didn't say anything for a few heartbeats, just stood there and watched him. After what seemed like forever, he slowly made his way over to Mickey and placed his hands on Mickey's hips. He pressed Mickey back against the door.

"We're going to hell," Ian murmured as he dipped his head and placed a warm kiss on Mickey's cheek.

Mickey visibly swallowed and nodded his head. "Looks like it."

Ian grabbed Mickey by the wrists and pinned Mickey's hands to the door above his head. He leaned in and captured Mickey's bottom lip between his teeth and playfully tugged.

It turned heated from there.

Mickey surged forward and slotted his mouth against Ian's, slipping his tongue between Ian's lips and swallowing Ian's satisfied gasp. He reached down and grabbed the bottom of Ian's t-shirt, and then pulled away from the kiss just long enough to tear it over Ian's head.

Ian gripped Mickey up and pulled him back in for another searing kiss as he reached down and began undoing Mickey's pants. In one swift motion, he pushed Mickey's pants and boxers down and leaned in to kiss him again as Mickey kicked out of the garments.

Ian worked on his own pants and kicked out of them, his foot getting caught and he nearly stumbled as he hobbled on one leg. They both laughed breathlessly into the kiss, and then turned serious again once Ian was free. Ian wrapped an arm around Mickey's waist and roughly pulled Mickey against him as the kiss grew more desperate and biting.

"Let's…let's take this to my room, yeah?" Mickey asked huskily against Ian's ear as Ian sucked at Mickey's neck. He pulled reluctantly away from Ian and began leading Ian back to his room.

Ian grabbed onto Mickey's hips as he followed, taking in the sight of Mickey's pale, plump ass the entire way. "Shit, Mickey," he mumbled.

Once they were in Mickey's bedroom and the door was closed, Mickey turned to Ian as he tore his own shirt over his head, leaving them both completely naked. "Last chance to back out," Mickey breathed, his chest heaving.

"Like hell I'm backing out," Ian murmured, his eyes sliding appreciatively over Mickey's body.

Mickey walked around Ian and to his night stand. He grabbed the condoms and lube and then walked back over to Ian.

Ian leaned back against the door and raised an eyebrow, making no move to take the proffered condom.

Mickey smirked a little, knowing where Ian was getting at. He tore the condom open with his teeth, spit the wrapper out, and then sank down to his knees. While keeping his eyes locked with Ian's, he leaned in and swirled his tongue over the head of Ian's cock, absolutely loving the mewling sounds coming from the other man. He then engulfed Ian's dick as much as he could, using his hand to cover the rest. He sucked Ian off until Ian was fully hard and revving to go. He pulled away and then rolled the condom slowly over Ian's hard dick.

Ian reached down and grabbed Mickey by the arm to pull him up, and then turned them so that Mickey was back against the door now. After Mickey wrapped a leg around Ian's waist, Ian grabbed the lube and slicked two fingers before reaching down between them and teasing the tight, puckered hole. "Feel good?" he murmured against Mickey's lips. On Mickey's nod, he slowly pushed his fingers past the tight ring of muscle and began scissoring Mickey loose.

Mickey gripped onto Ian's shoulders to steady himself, as Ian slowly fucked him with his fingers. He finally tore his mouth away from the heated kiss when it became too much. "I'm good. I'm good, let's go. I fucking need it."

"You need it, huh?" Ian asked breathlessly, resting his forehead against Mickey's. "Tell me how bad you need it."

"So fucking bad," Mickey rasped, and then choked back a gasp when Ian lifted him up, pressing him hard against the door. "Fuck, Ian, I want you so fucking bad," he breathed into Ian's ear, gripping onto the other man's back, undoubtedly leaving scratch marks this time.

Ian held Mickey up against the door with one arm under him and used his other hand to guide his cock to Mickey's ass. "Yeah?" he rasped. "Tell me how you want it."

"I want it hard," Mickey moaned hotly against Ian's shoulder. He then bit down into Ian's flesh when the tip of Ian's cock breached him. "I want it so fucking hard. Ian," he gasped.

Ian dug his face into the crook of Mickey's neck and bit the sensitive flesh before smoothing his tongue over the mark. He pushed and pressed and rocked his way inside of Mickey, loving the way Mickey's ass tightened and clenched around him. "Fuck, Mickey. Fuck. So fucking tight for me."

Mickey wrapped his arms and legs tighter around Ian as Ian began relentlessly thrusting into him. The wooden door was cold and hard against Mickey's back but, in the moment, he didn't fucking care. He cried out when Ian's dick brushed his prostate and his head became dizzy with desire.

"So good," Ian groaned. "You feel so fucking amazing," he said before capturing Mickey's lips in a rough, sloppy kiss as they continued fucking against the door.

Too caught up in the throes of passion, neither of them were aware of Ian's phone lighting up and vibrating in the middle of the living room floor, displaying Ayden's name on the screen.


	12. Shot Through the Heart

Ian smiled sleepily without even opening his eyes at the feeling of soft lips brushing against his eyelids. He stretched and arched his back into the warmth of the other man as the lips feathered over both of his cheeks and then his chin.

He blinked his eyes open and was faced with beautiful blue eyes and, for a few moments, he forgot how to breathe.

"G'morning," Mickey murmured huskily.

"Morning," Ian said back, the same stupid smile on his own face. He lifted his head up the few inches that separated them and pressed their lips together in a soft, affectionate kiss. When he dropped his head back to the pillow, his lips pulled Mickey with him.

Mickey groaned and shifted on top of Ian, his knee brushing against Ian's erection as he slotted their legs together beneath the rough cotton sheets. He opened his mouth against Ian's, and their tongues lazily tangled as Mickey straddled him.

"What time is it?" Ian grumbled when Mickey pulled away to playfully lick and nip at his throat.

"Almost seven," Mickey mumbled distractedly as he licked his way up to Ian's ear and nibbled his earlobe.

Ian was about to say something, but was immediately silenced when Mickey's lips were on his again. He ran his hands slowly up and down Mickey's back, his fingertips feathering against Mickey's warm skin, as Mickey began lazily rutting against him, their cocks sliding together. Ian dipped his hands under the sheets, and he grabbed handfuls of Mickey's ass, holding Mickey tighter against him.

"I wanna ride you," Mickey declared, his breath hot against Ian's neck.

"What the fuck are you waiting for?" Ian rasped as he grabbed Mickey's ass harder, spreading his ass cheeks apart, which made Mickey groan.

Just as Mickey was leaning over towards the bedside table to grab the condoms and lube, there was a knock on his bedroom door.

"What the fuck," Mickey cursed. He hung his head and reluctantly climbed off of Ian (earning a playful smack on the ass in the process), wanting to get to the door before Mandy barged in like she was so inclined to do.

Mickey opened the door a few inches, just enough to poke his head out. "What the fuck do you want?"

Mandy stood there stone-faced, her arms crossed over her chest. "Bring someone home again last night? Getting a little excessive, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I brought someone home," Mickey answered flatly. "The fuck's it to you?"

"Anyone I know?" Mandy asked with a stiff shrug, the corners of her lips dipping sarcastically.

Mickey regarded her warily, his heart hammering in his chest. "No. Just some fucking random twink I picked up at the bar last night. Is that all? Can I go back to bed now, please?"

Mandy dropped her arms. "Drop the act. I know it's Ian in there, you asshole!"

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"His fucking phone is laying on our living room floor, along with his clothes!"

Mickey arched his brows and rubbed at the back of his neck, not knowing what to say to that. He knew he was busted.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Mickey?" Mandy snapped. "Have you completely lost it?"

"Look, it's not what you—"

Without warning, Mandy kicked the door open, exposing Ian, who was lying naked in the middle of the bed. The only thing covering his dick was a corner of the sheet that was spread across him.

"Hey," Ian said slowly with a weak wave, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Yeah…hey," Mandy snapped flatly before turning her disapproving glare back to her brother. "I really hope you know what the fuck you're doing," she said glumly. "I have to get to work."

Mickey watched as his sister walked away. He closed his eyes and sighed as he pressed his forehead to the edge of the door. "Fuck. Fuck!"

Ian was suddenly standing next to him. "I, uh, maybe I should go—"

Mickey nodded his head stiffly, silently cursing his sister for bursting their bubble. "Yeah. Okay." He watched as Ian walked out into the living room, pulling his boxers and jeans on before slowly reaching down to grab his phone.

Mickey wished he could rewind time and go back to twenty minutes earlier; back to when he had contentedly woken up with his head on Ian's chest, before reality reared its ugly head.

Mickey wished a lot of things.

* * *

Ian looked down at his phone with a heavy heart. Sure enough, there were three missed calls and seven missed text messages from Ayden.

Fuck.

Ian ran a hand over his face, the familiar guilt hitting him like a kick to the gut.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Mickey made his way to the kitchen.

"I'm going to go call..." Ian said with a nod back towards Mickey's bedroom, not wanting to say Ayden's name around Mickey. It didn't feel right.

Mickey just nodded curtly, not quite meeting Ian's eyes as he began preparing coffee. "Yeah, okay. I'll, uh, I'll make us some eggs."

Ian headed for the bedroom and, once he was out of Mickey's earshot, he took a few deep breaths before hitting the call button. The other man answered after the first ring, which made Ian feel even worse.

"Where the hell are you?" Ayden asked on the other end. "Do you have any idea how fucking worried I've been. Not to mention I have a fucking meeting in a half an hour, and now I'm going to be late!"

Ian swallowed the thick lump in his throat as he stiffly sat down on the edge of Mickey's bed. He then remembered what he and Mickey had done on that very bed, and he quickly shot back up.

"I'm sorry. One of my, uh, my regulars invited me back to their loft for an after hours party," Ian lied, keeping his tone steady and knowing that it wasn't an unreasonable excuse. He had gone to after hours parties before…

"And you didn't think to call me, your fucking fiancé, to let me know where you were going?" Ayden asked irritably.

"I thought you'd be asleep, and I know how much you hate being woken up."

"You still should've called, Ian."

"I passed out really early, anyway," Ian said back numbly, hoping he was making sense. He closed his eyes, trying to swallow down the nausea.

Ayden sighed heavily, and then said in a slightly softer tone, "Well, where are you now?"

"I'm about to leave," Ian said. He craned his neck and looked out towards the kitchen to where Mickey was standing in front of the stove making eggs. He took in the sight of Mickey's half-naked body, and how sexy Mickey looked just making eggs. He realized, even as he was on the phone with Ayden, that he wasn't ready to leave just yet. The next lie came out of his mouth before he could stop it. "I'm actually thinking about heading to Fiona's for the day to visit for a little while."

Ayden was quiet again and then, "Will you be at home later when I get off work, at least?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be home."

"Alright," Ayden said, though he didn't sound happy at all. "I'll see you later then. Love ya."

Ian bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, hesitating before saying, "Love you, too."

* * *

Mickey froze on his way to the bathroom as Ian's I love you to Ayden hit his ears. He didn't expect hearing those words to hit him so hard, but they did. He felt as if he'd been punched in the chest. He quickly disappeared into the bathroom before he could hear anything else.

After brushing his teeth and washing his face, Mickey walked back into the bedroom to find Ian sitting idly on the bed, staring blankly down at his phone. "You alright?" he asked, thumbing at his lower lip. He didn't like the look on Ian's face. It looked a lot like guilt. Regret.

"Yeah," Ian answered dejectedly. He then tossed his phone to the side and ran a hand down his face. It looked as if he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind at the last second. "So."

"So," Mickey said, rocking a little on his heels. "Are you leaving or…?"

Ian looked up, his expression unreadable. "Do you want me to go?"

"No, I don't want you to go," Mickey said with a sigh. "I'm also not the one with a fiancé waiting for me at home," he added bitterly.

"He's on his way to work right now."

Mickey chewed on his lower lip as he regarded Ian. "Should we talk about last night?"

"No," Ian said sullenly.

"So, what the fuck do you wanna do?" Mickey asked irritably, spreading his arms out. "Act like it didn't happen again? 'Cause that's worked out so well for us so fucking far."

"I don't fucking know," Ian shot back as he stood up. "I don't know how the fuck to handle any of this. I know I should leave right now, but I can't. I don't want to. I know that's fucking shitty, but…fuck."

Mickey watched him, not knowing how to handle the situation himself. "Well, you don't want to go. I don't want you to go. You don't want to talk about shit. Tell me what you want to do here, Ian."

"I don't know," Ian said, rubbing his temples in frustration. "Fuck, let's just—just spend the day together or something, do something fucking normal for once. Let's each just pick one thing we like to do, and just fucking go and do it."

"Or we could just stay in bed all day and fuck," Mickey teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Ian smirked and tilted his head to the side. "I'm serious, Mickey. I need some fucking normalcy in my life right now. I need to do something to take my mind off of all this shit."

Mickey stepped closer without thinking much about it, and ran his fingers through Ian's hair, a new favorite habit of his. "Alright, we can do that. We can do whatever you wanna do. What do you want to do?"

Ian's only answer was a small smile before he leaned down to kiss Mickey softly on the lips.

* * *

A little while later, Mickey couldn't deny the fact that Ian looked cute as all hell in his full paintball getup. Ian really seemed to take the shit seriously, much to Mickey's amusement.

"Paintball?" Mickey asked. "This was your big idea?"

"It's fun! What's wrong with fun?" Ian was looking down at his paintball gun, fumbling with it, smiling like a little kid on Christmas morning. "Quit being such a fucking old man. Haven't you ever been paintballing before?"

"Nah, man. I was more inclined to play with actual guns while growing up," Mickey answered.

Ian shot him an amused look. "How are you normal?"

Mickey laughed. "Aye, fuck you, asshole."

"Alright, you ready?" Ian asked once his laughter had died down, his tone suddenly turning serious as he put on his helmet.

"Ready, I guess," Mickey answered with a little less enthusiasm.

"Prepare to go down, Milkovich," Ian warned with a dramatic cock of his gun before turning and running off into the field.

"Fuck me," Mickey mumbled grumpily under his breath before following after Ian. Before he could take another step further, he got hit right in the chest with fluorescent pink spatter.

"Come on, you're not even gonna fucking try?" Ian called out from a half dozen yards away, his arms spread out tauntingly.

"Oh, you're a fucking dead man, Gallagher!" Mickey exclaimed before dashing after Ian, who quickly darted behind a huge haystack.

Mickey found himself laughing more than he had in a long time and—as he chased Ian through the maze of haystacks, stacks of tires, and other obstacles—he couldn't deny that he was having a good fucking time.

He missed his shots at Ian a lot more than he hit him, but Ian made most of his own shots, covering Mickey from head to toe with pink paint.

"Come on, Mick! At least give me something to work with here! Fuck!" Ian taunted, firing twice in rapid succession and hitting Mickey right in the crotch.

"That's it, asshole! Your ass is going down!" Mickey yelled before tossing his gun to the side. He chased after Ian and finally caught him around the waist. Ian yelped with laughter and struggled within Mickey's grasp, but Mickey eventually became the victor as he tackled Ian down into a loose pile of hay.

Ian pulled off his helmet and stared up at Mickey, a grin spread wide across his flushed face, and his chest rising and falling heavily as he struggled to catch his breath.

Mickey pulled off his own helmet and stared down at Ian. As he stared, his grin slowly melted and he reached up with a paint-covered glove and stroked Ian's cheek, smearing paint across Ian's soft skin.

Ian's own smile faded and the moment turned serious.

"You win," Mickey rasped. He then leaned down and kissed him.

* * *

A little while later, it was time for Mickey to pick out their next activity for the day. Ian wasn't really surprised to find himself at a shooting range.

"Time to play with the big boy guns," Mickey said with a shit-eating grin, his eyes dancing with excitement.

"Look at you," Ian said as he placed his protective ear piece on. "You're like a fucking kid in a candy store right now."

"Fuck yeah, I am," Mickey said with a grin as he stepped up to take his turn. He was immediately pulled back by a hand on his forearm, and then Ian's mouth was on his, soft and sweet. When they pulled apart, Mickey's eyebrows shot up. "Watch and learn, gingerbread," he said before turning towards the target.

Ian smirked as he crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Mickey took his shots, hitting the target almost every time. "You know, it's kinda scary how good of a shot you are."

"Yeah, and don't you fuckin' forget it," Mickey joked, and then moved out of the way and motioned for Ian to step up. "Show me what you got, hotshot."

"Pretty sure you know what I got," Ian quipped with a flirty wink.

"Just take your shot, asshole," Mickey said with a laugh.

Ian positioned himself and lifted his arms. He squinted one eye, aimed, and fired off the gun. He recoiled a little at the force of it, and then saw that he was nowhere near his target.

"You fucking blow."

Ian tossed Mickey an unamused look over his shoulder. He then turned back and fired another shot, just barely hitting the target this time.

"The fuck? Here, you're doing it wrong," Mickey said, stepping up behind Ian and pressing himself against Ian's back. He then wrapped his arms around Ian. He smoothed his hands down Ian's arms and then gripped Ian's hands, showing Ian how to straighten his arms just the right way, and pivoting Ian's aim a little to the left. "Lock your arms, take your time, and aim," Mickey murmured, his mouth close to Ian's ear, his breath warm on Ian's neck. "Try it now."

Ian hesitated for a brief moment to line the shot before firing, finally hitting the target almost on the nose.

Mickey's grin matched Ian's. "You're not half bad, Gallagher."

Ian instinctively leaned back against Mickey, not having the heart to tell Mickey that he had been in the JROTC program back in high school, and that he most definitely knew how to shoot a gun. "Yeah?"

Mickey finally gave in to the strong urge and brushed his lips against Ian's neck. He dropped his hands to Ian's waist, pulling Ian back against him. "Not bad at all," he murmured.

Ian turned his head and met Mickey's lips for a kiss over his shoulder.

Mickey reached up and palmed his hand over the slender slope of Ian's neck before dropping his hand and palming Ian through his pants.

"You…you ready to get out of here?" Ian stammered, his breath hitched as he reached down to place his hand over Mickey's, causing Mickey to palm him harder.

"Fuck yeah," Mickey said breathlessly. "Been ready."

* * *

After arriving back at Mickey's apartment, and wasting no time tearing their clothes off and fucking, Mickey and Ian collapsed into a sweaty heap on the bed as they tried to catch their breaths.

"I should get going," Ian said reluctantly, finally breaking the contented silence. "It's getting late."

"Yeah," Mickey drawled. "Mandy will be home from work soon. Probably don't wanna be here when she gets back."

Ian propped himself up on an elbow and looked down at Mickey. Once again, it looked as if Ian wanted to say something important. Instead, he dropped his head and sighed. "Yeah."

Mickey watched as Ian reluctantly rolled out of bed and bent down to retrieve his pants. He sat up and back against the headboard as he watched Ian dress. With every passing second, and every article of clothing Ian put back on, Mickey's heart grew heavier.

"It makes me sick," Mickey blurted, his thumb rubbing nervously against his lower lip.

Ian pulled his shirt down over his head and froze with it halfway on as he regarded Mickey warily. "What?"

"The thought of you going home…to him. The thought of him putting his hands on you. I know I have no right getting sick about it, considering he's your—" Mickey couldn't even finish the sentence; only scoffed lightly and ran a shaky hand down his face.

"Hey," Ian said, sitting back down on the bed. He reached out and gently stroked Mickey's cheek. "He won't, okay?"

"Don't do that," Mickey said flatly, moving away from Ian's touch. "Don't promise me something you can't fucking promise me."

Ian leaned in and feathered his lips against Mickey's. "He won't," he said with more finality.

Mickey accepted Ian's soft kiss even though he knew the promise was empty. He then opened his eyes when Ian pulled away to finish gathering his things. He swallowed the sour lump in his throat and ran a hand through his hair. "When will I see you again?" He hated how fucking desperate he sounded.

"I work tonight," Ian said as he put on his shoes. "I'll text you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, okay," Mickey said dejectedly.

Ian walked to the door, and then hesitated before looking back. "I don't really know what to say," he said glumly.

"Then don't say anything," Mickey answered curtly.

Ian nodded hesitantly and sent him a weak smile before turning and leaving the room.

Mickey rested his head back against the headboard and stared blankly at the ceiling, hating the fact that he was sending Ian off to be with another man, but knowing he had no fucking choice.

* * *

Ian hesitated outside the door of the penthouse, and took a deep breath before finally gathering up enough courage to walk through the threshold. He placed his backpack next to the door and toed his shoes off, doing everything and anything possible to delay the inevitable.

He made his way into the expansive living room and, unsurprisingly, found Ayden in the middle of his work at his desk. The sight of his fiancé caused his stomach to knot, the guilt he had been feeling all day multiplying tenfold.

"Hey."

Ayden looked up from his work, his face expressionless. After a long pause, he said, "I almost forgot what you looked like; feels like I haven't seen you in days."

Ian's tension eased a little when he realized Ayden wasn't that angry. A part of Ian wished he was angry…wished Ayden would start a huge fight with him, so that maybe Ian could feel a little justified for what he had done.

"How's Fiona and the kids?"

Ian couldn't help but to think about the fact that Ayden had never seemed to care about his family before; now he was interested?

"They're good."

"Come here," Ayden said, reaching out a hand.

Ian hesitated for only a moment before making his way over to Ayden. His heart hammered in his throat, and he couldn't help but wonder if Ayden would be able to smell Mickey on him. He suddenly wished he would have showered before coming home. That would have been the smart thing to do, but he was pretty fucking stupid these days.

He then couldn't help but think about how big of a piece of shit he was.

Once Ian was in front of Ayden, the other man took Ian's hand and brought it to his lips, placing a soft, warm kiss on his palm.

Ian stood there frozen and waited; waited for Ayden to speak, waited for him to do something, anything…yell, scream, show some kind of reaction. Instead, Ayden dropped Ian's hand and turned back to his work with a resigned sigh.

"It's going to be a long night for me tonight," Ayden said dully as he ran a hand down his face. "I have a deadline on Monday. There's leftover halibut in the fridge if you're hungry."

Ian curled his hand at his side and watched as his fiancé went back to ignoring him. Stiffly, he walked to the kitchen to grab the halibut from the fridge. As he put the plate in the microwave to heat it up, he couldn't help wanting to be somewhere else…with someone else.

* * *

Mickey grunted as he got off the couch to answer the door, silently cursing whoever had decided to interrupt him right before Criminal Minds. No one interrupted him during Criminal fucking Minds if they knew what was good for them.

When he opened the door to find Ian, however, he found that he wasn't that mad.

"What are you doing here?" Mickey asked, leaning against the door. "Thought you had to work tonight."

"Decided to take the night off," Ian said casually with a lazy shrug.

Mickey slowly licked his bottom lip as he regarded Ian. He then reached forward and clutched the front of Ian's t-shirt to tug him inside.

Ian kicked the door shut behind him, and then swooped Mickey up in his arms, pulling Mickey up and against him, and then crushing their lips together in a hungry, desperate kiss. "Mandy here?" he gasped against Mickey's mouth.

"She's sleepin', we're good," Mickey answered breathlessly.

Ian responded by engulfing Mickey's face in his hands and kissing him hard.

Mickey pressed as tight against Ian as he could get, and his hands fisted in red hair. He gasped through the kiss when Ian lifted him up suddenly, and Mickey wrapped his legs around him.

Ian carried Mickey into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. Not wanting to waste any more time, Ian placed Mickey on the floor, and then hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of Mickey's sweatpants and slid them down over his hips. "Fuck," he breathed when he saw that Mickey was going commando, his cock springing free, already rock hard. "Just when I thought you couldn't get any fucking hotter."

Mickey stepped out of his sweatpants, and then tore his shirt over his head before reaching for Ian's shirt and helping him out of it.

Ian worked on his own pants, and then he was naked and pulling Mickey back against him with a firm tug on Mickey's arm.

Mickey kissed Ian hard, biting and licking at his lips as he grabbed Ian's hips and began pulling Ian back towards the bed. "Wanna ride you," he murmured through the kiss. "Want your cock in me. Been thinking about it all night."

"Yeah?" Ian panted breathlessly.

Mickey only nodded and kissed Ian harder.

Ian pulled away and pushed Mickey onto the bed, causing Mickey to bounce slightly. "Get on your knees."

Mickey did as he was told, watching Ian over his shoulder. He then groaned when Ian crawled onto the bed and settled behind him. Mickey hung his head and let out a soft hiss when Ian suddenly grabbed his ass cheeks, kneading and spreading them apart.

Ian dipped his tongue into the puckered hole, and then grinned when Mickey bucked back against him.

"Warn me next time before you decide to eat my ass?" Mickey rasped, even though he pressed back further against Ian's face.

Ian spread Mickey open even further and spat at the puckered hole before diving back in to lick him open.

Mickey's arms gave out and his chest fell against the mattress as Ian fucked him with his tongue.

"Fuck, I can't get enough of your ass," Ian grumbled as he gently nibbled the sensitive skin surrounding Mickey's hole. He then worked his tongue back inside the puckered rim, loving the way Mickey was squirming and rutting beneath him.

"Ian, shit, let's get this fucking show on the road," Mickey snapped as he reached down and began tugging at his own cock.

Ian pulled away and let Mickey take control. Mickey turned around and pressed a hand to Ian's chest, motioning for Ian to get on his back. He then leaned over and grabbed the lube and condoms from the bedside table.

With his eyes locked on Ian's the entire time, Mickey slid the condom on Ian's cock, and then slathered his own fingers with lube. He straddled and hovered over Ian as he fucked his fingers into his own ass, preparing himself. "I'm going to ride you so fucking hard. Been waitin' for this."

Ian watched Mickey through hooded eyes as he ran his hands up Mickey's chest to cup around his neck and back down again.

Unable to wait any longer, Mickey hovered over Ian and grasped Ian's cock. He bit his lower lip as he positioned the tip against the puckered rim, and then he slowly wiggled and sank down until Ian's cock was buried to the hilt, filling him completely.

"Fuck, Mickey," Ian choked as he gripped Mickey's hips and dug his fingers in, leaving red marks on Mickey's pale skin.

Mickey leaned forward and curled his hands against Ian's chest as he adjusted. "Fuckin' love your cock."

"You need to move, Mickey. Please," Ian choked out.

Mickey grabbed Ian's hands and laced their fingers. He pressed Ian's hands to the mattress, and used them for leverage as he set his pace. He rode Ian slow and steady, pulling incredible moans and gasps from the redhead. He leaned down and licked his way into Ian's mouth and sucked on his tongue. "You feel so fucking good," he panted breathlessly through the kiss.

Ian suddenly moved so that he was sitting up, his arms wrapped around Mickey as he continued riding Ian at a slow, unhurried pace. Their mouths connected, their lips slotted together as their tongues lazily played and they panted into each other's mouths. When Mickey broke the kiss and tilted his head back to gasp, Ian trailed his tongue down Mickey's chin, and then along the column of Mickey's throat.

"Fuck, Ian," Mickey gasped as Ian sucked a hickey at his collarbone. He clenched his ass around Ian's cock, and laughed breathlessly at the incredible noise that fell from Ian's lips.

Ian ran his hands up and down Mickey's back and then cupped Mickey's ass. He pulled Mickey's ass cheeks apart and urged Mickey to pick up his pace. "Shit, Mickey," Ian panted breathlessly into Mickey's neck.

Mickey wrapped his arms around Ian's neck, and dug his fingers into the skin of Ian's back as he rode Ian hard, feeling his orgasm creeping up on him.

Ian spread Mickey wider and gripped his ass tighter as Mickey practically sobbed and cursed against Ian's ear. Ian reached between them and gripped Mickey's leaking dick in his fist and pumped. "Come for me, Mick. Do it."

"Fuck. Ian," Mickey breathed out, his whole body trembling, his voice wrecked.

Ian shuddered through his own orgasm, and then held onto Mickey tight as he finally came, ribbons of hot come spurting between them.

Mickey didn't release his grip on Ian, only held onto him tighter as he slowly rode out his orgasm. He moaned when Ian finally moved, maneuvering them backwards so that Mickey was on his back.

Ian pulled out carefully and removed the used condom before relaxing next to a sweaty, flushed Mickey. He watched as Mickey gasped for breath and licked his lips, his eyes closed. Ian smiled gingerly and reached out to catch a drop of sweat trickling down Mickey's cheek. "You're beautiful, you know that."

"Fuck off," Mickey said breathlessly, finally opening his eyes to look at Ian. He propped himself up on an elbow and leaned down to softly press his lips against Ian's. He then nuzzled closer and rested his cheek on Ian's chest.

"Didn't take you for a cuddler," Ian murmured affectionately against Mickey's forehead.

"Fuck off repeatedly."

Ian smiled softly and wrapped an arm around Mickey, holding him close.

As they basked in the afterglow, Mickey entwined his fingers with Ian's and watched as their fingers lazily scissored. "This is fucking unreal," he murmured.

"I know."

"A month and a half ago, you were just some fucking random guy on the street."

Ian hummed in agreement.

"It's fucking crazy," Mickey mumbled again, still watching their fingers play.

"I don't know what it is," Ian murmured sleepily. "When I'm with you I feel like I can be myself. I feel…happy. Alive. I haven't felt like that in a long time, you know. It's nice." He pressed a lingering kiss to Mickey's sweaty forehead. "It's good."

Mickey swallowed thickly, Ian's words like a punch to his chest in the best way possible. He hesitated only briefly before lifting his head, leaning up and hovering his mouth over Ian's. He untangled his hand from Ian's and smoothed it over Ian's soft, velvety cheek, his thumb brushing over Ian's brow.

Their eyes connected…their slow, unsteady breathing the only sounds in the room.

"What?" Ian rasped, his mouth twisting into a small, amused smile. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Mickey hesitated for only a few moments before answering.

"I want you to be with me."


	13. A Beautiful Mess

Ian dug his head back harder into the pillow and searched Mickey's eyes, obviously trying to wrap his mind around what he'd just heard.

"What?"

Mickey immediately regretted the words as soon as they tumbled out of his mouth, and even more so when he took in the look of utter surprise on Ian's face. He opened his mouth to try to backpedal his way out of it, but nothing came out.

Instead, he hung his head, pressing his forehead to Ian's chest. "Shit."

"That's it?" Ian said after a few awkward moments of silence. "You say something like that to me, then when I ask you to elaborate, all you can say is 'shit'?"

Mickey lifted his head and then sat up, turning his back to Ian as he hung his head in his hands. "I shouldn't have fucking said it."

Ian sat up slowly next to him. "But you meant it?"

"Huh?" Mickey asked, his head swimming as he tried to keep up with the conversation.

"You said you shouldn't have said it, but did you mean it?"

"Even if I did mean it, it doesn't really fucking matter, now does it?" When Ian didn't say anything, Mickey snuck a look over his shoulder to see Ian running a hand over his face. Mickey's heart immediately dropped when he realized Ian wasn't exactly jumping for joy over his admission. Mickey then flung the sheets away from his body and got out of bed in all of his naked glory.

"Where are you going?" Ian asked.

Mickey didn't say anything as he grabbed his boxers from the floor and tugged them on. He heard the sound of the bed creaking, and then Ian's arms were wrapping around him from behind. After a moment's hesitation, Mickey sighed and allowed himself to relax back into Ian's embrace.

"Hey, you just took me by surprise, that's all," Ian said, mumbling his words against Mickey's bare shoulder.

Mickey smirked and turned in Ian's arms to look up at him disbelievingly. "How could you not know that's what I want?" he asked, his words once again escaping him before he could process them first. He then sighed. "Look, I don't want things to get weird, alright? I know this is a fucked up situation, and I'm not pressuring you into doing anything. I don't expect anything here. I know what this is."

Ian leaned in and bumped his forehead against Mickey's before pulling away.

Mickey watched as Ian paced to the other side of the room to look out the window.

"I should go," Ian said, finally breaking the strained silence. He turned back around to look at Mickey. "I think I should go and think about some things." He walked back over to Mickey and tilted Mickey's chin up. "It's not bad, okay? It's nothing bad. It's just a lot to take in, and there's some shit I gotta sort through. I just need some time to think."

Mickey slowly lifted his eyes, his lips parting gently. He never thought that Ian would actually consider being with him.

Ian smiled down at Mickey softly and leaned in for a gentle kiss.

"So, what the fuck does this mean?"

Ian sighed and reluctantly pulled away. "It means that…I'm gonna go for now. I'm gonna go and get my head on straight."

"You don't have to leave right this second, do you?" Mickey asked as he trailed his hand down Ian's torso until he reached Ian's dick. He gave Ian's cock a few firm tugs before leaning in to kiss at Ian's neck. "Don't I get a chance to at least plead my case, first?"

"You are _the worst_ fucking wedding planner known to man, you know that?" Ian groaned.

Before Mickey could answer, Ian grabbed Mickey by the ass, lifted him up, and tossed him back onto the bed before leaning down and meeting Mickey halfway for a passionate kiss.

* * *

Ian walked into the penthouse a little while later and placed his backpack next to the door. He walked towards the kitchen, intent on grabbing a bottled water from the fridge, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Ayden sitting at the counter island, his fingers steepled under his chin as he stared straight ahead at nothing.

"H-hey," Ian said hesitantly, trying to keep his tone light and steady. "What, uh, what are you doing home so early? Why aren't you at work?"

"I have some extra vacation days. Took half the day off," Ayden said monotonously before finally looking at Ian. "Where were you?"

Ian was caught off guard for a moment before quickly recovering and saying, "Went for a run and, uh, had a meeting with Mickey to go over some wedding stuff." He waited with bated breath…waited for Ayden to explode or accuse. Instead, Ayden deflated with a sigh and rubbed at his eyes.

"I'm exhausted, Ian," Ayden said. "This new pitch is draining me. I feel like I'm not even living my own life anymore." He then looked at Ian, his face softening. "And you were right the other day on the phone. I have been telling you no a lot lately, taking my stress out on you."

Ian just stood frozen in his spot and swallowed down the bitter lump in his throat as the guilt once again settled in the pit of his stomach.

Ayden slid off his stool and walked over to Ian. He grabbed Ian by the waist and wrapped his arms around him. "Why don't we take that weekend trip you mentioned the other day on the phone? After I make my pitch next week. Let's pack up and get away for a little while; get away from the stress of my job and this damn wedding."

Ian was internally panicking, unable to come up with an excuse not to go fast enough. "I have double shifts at the club all weekend, I can't."

"Have someone cover for you. You've done it before."

"But…are you sure we can even afford it so close to the wedding? We're already getting close to going over our budget, and we—"

"I'm not worried about the money," Ayden interrupted before leaning down to kiss Ian softly on the lips.

Ian kissed him back for only a moment before turning his head and giving Ayden his cheek instead. "No kisses. I didn't get a chance to brush my teeth yet."

Another person may have kissed him anyway, but not Ayden. Thankfully for Ian in the moment, personal hygiene was incredibly important to Ayden.

Ian visibly relaxed when Ayden acquiesced and walked to the fridge to grab a water, essentially dropping the topic of a weekend getaway for the time being, much to Ian's relief.

* * *

Later that night, Ian and Ayden were lounging on the couch, catching up on Bates Motel on Netflix. Normally, Ian would have been completely enthralled with the crazy antics of Norma and Norman, but tonight his thoughts were a million miles away.

Even though he was sitting next to the man that he was supposed to love—the man he was supposed to be marrying in less than two weeks—he couldn't stop thinking about Mickey.

He couldn't stop thinking about how rough Mickey's hands looked, but how soft they felt on his skin. About how the husky rasp of Mickey's sleepy voice in the morning sent shivers down his spine. About how completely fucking amazing Mickey's mouth had felt on his cock the night before…

"You work tonight?" Ayden suddenly asked, pulling Ian away from his adulterous thoughts.

"I, uh, go in at ten," Ian said, pretending to be too preoccupied with the TV to look at him.

"So, we have about an hour, huh?" Ayden asked, suddenly inching closer to Ian. He placed his hand high on Ian's thigh and squeezed suggestively.

Ian stared down at Ayden's hand and swallowed the bitter lump in his throat. Ayden's bony, uninked hand suddenly looked so plain against his body.

"What do you say we move this to the bedroom?" Ayden said, moving his hand a little further up to palm Ian through his jeans.

"I already took a shower, though," Ian said, keeping his tone light. "I don't really feel like getting all smelly and dirty again before work."

"Most of the people in that club already smell like the inside of a whore house, no one will notice," Ayden said as he leaned in and began nipping at Ian's neck, which—just a few short months ago—would have driven Ian wild. Not that night.

Not anymore.

"Come on," Ian chastised, leaning away from his horny and unrelenting fiancé. "Not tonight, alright?"

Ayden pulled back, suddenly not looking so playful anymore. "Let me guess? It's your stupid fucking meds again."

Ian stared back at Ayden dumbfounded, not knowing what to say to that.

Ayden stared right back unyieldingly before letting out a heavy sigh and standing up to walk to the kitchen. "You know, I don't get you. Last week, you couldn't keep your hands off me. Suddenly, tonight, you're barely getting hard and don't even want to touch me. You're running really fucking hot and cold these days, Ian, I gotta tell you."

"You're one to fucking talk," Ian spat, his eyebrows furrowing.

Ayden just stared back at him darkly.

"And what if it is because of my fucking meds," Ian said, suddenly incredibly angry that Ayden would even throw that in his face. "You want to marry me, you better get fucking used to it, because my whole fucking life is going to run hot and cold."

Ayden pulled a bottled water from the fridge and then turned to face him. "I don't want to argue with you about this right now."

"Of course you don't," Ian said bitterly.

"I'm going to go lie down. Have fun at work," Ayden said dryly as he made his way to the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Ian sat and stewed in his annoyance, trying to give the other man the benefit of the doubt. He knew Ayden was under a lot of pressure and strain at work, and probably didn't mean half the things he said or did these days. He sat back against the couch and groaned as he ran a hand down his face, half-contemplating following his fiancé into the bedroom and trying to rectify the situation.

He stood up and faced the closed bedroom door for a few heartbeats before changing course and heading towards the door to grab his backpack and walking out, deciding to head to work early to make up for last night's missed shift.

* * *

The bar was busier than usual for a Wednesday night, a mob of demanding patrons swarming around him, eager for their drinks. Any other night, Ian would have been running around frantically mixing drinks and pouring draft beers, cursing in his head and anxiously awaiting his next smoke break. That night, he welcomed the distractions.

For even just a little while, he was able to bury thoughts of Mickey and his guilt regarding Ayden into the deepest recesses of his mind.

That was until he looked up to take the next person in line's order and he was met with steely blue eyes and a beautiful smirk.

"Mickey," Ian breathed, his heart thundering in his chest. "What are you doing here?"

"Got thirsty," Mickey said as he casually leaned against the bar. The smirk then slipped off his face as his eyes took in Ian's befuddled expression. "I know you said you needed space and time to think, but—"

"No," Ian found himself saying. "No, it's okay. I'm glad you're here." They held each other's stare for a few heartbeats before Ian cleared his throat. "So, uh, you want the usual?"

"Yeah. Just a regular, non-fancy beer."

"Coming right up."

After placing Mickey's beer in front of him and giving him a playful wink, Ian went back to his awaiting customers, feeling Mickey's eyes on him the entire time.

It was going to be a long night, but he couldn't deny the fact that he liked that Mickey liked looking at him, that Mickey liked just being around him. It was a hell of a lot more than he could say for someone else.

Mickey hadn't planned on going out. In fact, he had been lounging on the couch in his pajama pants—a six-pack of beer and some snacks spread out in front of him—fully intent on getting lost in his DVRed shows.

It would have been the perfect fucking night, except for the fact that he hadn't been able to get Ian out of his head the entire day. He couldn't stop thinking about Ian's face, and the way Ian wrapped himself around Mickey's body after sex, and his stupid fucking goofy laugh. He couldn't stop wondering what Ian and Ayden were talking about, what they were doing, if that fucking douchebag was putting his hands on Ian.

Before Mickey could fully grasp what he was doing, he had gotten up from the couch, threw on something halfway decent, splashed on some cologne, and was out the door.

Now, he was sitting there sipping his beer and watching as Ian dashed around behind the bar, looking flustered and irritated and sweaty as he refilled drinks and worked the cash register.

Mickey was in love.

There was no doubt about it.

It fucking terrified him. The old him had been perfectly content fucking random dudes in alleys and bathrooms. Perfectly content doing the whole hit it and quit it thing. He had never felt compelled to see the guy again the next day; he had never felt compelled to just show up at some guy's work just to see him. He had never missed anyone the way he missed Ian when he wasn't around. Mickey had never kissed anyone the way he kissed Ian. No one had ever made Mickey feel the way Ian made him feel.

But, as scary as it all was, Mickey was all in.

He just hoped Ian was, too.

After the crowd died down a little, Ian finally made his way over and leaned against the bar on his elbows, looking as if he could fall asleep standing up. "Well, I'm definitely making enough tips tonight to make up for taking last night off."

Mickey wanted to lean across the bar and kiss him, but he refrained. "You sure you're okay with me being here?"

Ian looked at him stone-faced and serious for several moments, causing Mickey's heart to drop, before finally breaking out into a cheesy grin. "Of course I'm okay with it. I'm glad you're here."

"You're such a dick," Mickey said with a laugh before taking a sip of his beer. "So, what'd you do today?" he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Ian sighed. "Why don't you just ask me what I already know you want to ask me?"

Mickey just smirked against the rim of his mug with a raise of his eyebrows.

Ian leaned further against the bar, his expression suddenly turning serious. "Nothing happened, Mick," he said, his eyes falling to Mickey's lips.

Mickey opened his mouth, intent on asking Ian if he had any specific answers for him yet, but they were rudely interrupted as a man slid onto the stool next to him.

"Shot of whiskey," the man blurted as he slapped his money on the bar top. When Ian didn't move quickly enough, the guy sighed dramatically. "Now, Chucky. I don't have all night."

Mickey immediately straightened, and fixed the guy with a baleful glare.

"Mick," Ian warned as he went to work pouring the guy a shot. "It's cool."

"No, it's not fucking cool," Mickey spat venomously. "He doesn't need to talk to you like that."

"Don't cause a scene," Ian said sternly, his eyes pleading as he placed the shot down in front of the guy.

"You're lucky you have a sweet ass," the guy grumbled after downing his shot in one gulp. "'Cause you have shit for brains."

Mickey was stewing with anger by now, and was seconds away from standing up and pummeling the guy, but one look from Ian stopped him.

"Give me 'nother," the guy demanded, completely undeterred by Mickey, as he slid his shot glass forward.

As Ian was pouring the shot, the guy's hand shot out and he grabbed Ian's wrist roughly. "Don't get fucking cheap either. Fill it up."

Before the guy could even grasp what was happening to him, Mickey's hand was tight around his throat as he pulled the man up from his seat and brought their faces inches from each other. "Don't fuckin' touch him."

"Mickey," Ian called out as he quickly made his way around the bar. "Mick, stop."

Mickey tightened his hand around the sputtering man's throat before finally releasing him. In the second it took Mickey to turn his head and glance at Ian, the man punched Mickey in the face, busting his lower lip open. Mickey retaliated and, seconds later, a bouncer was pulling Mickey away and towards the exit.

With Roger's help, Ian dragged a pissed off and resistant Mickey outside.

"Get your fuckin' hands off me," Mickey snapped, shrugging roughly out of Roger's hold.

"Thanks, Roger, I got it from here," Ian said, his stare hard as he regarded Mickey, who was still stewing in his anger and wiping blood from his bottom lip with the back of his hand.

"You sure?" Roger asked.

"Yeah, he's a…friend. I got him. We're good." Ian sighed when he saw that Roger wasn't budging. "I'm good. Seriously, I got it."

"He said we're fuckin' good, Shaft," Mickey snapped. "The fuck," he then grumbled under his breath.

Roger threw Mickey another disgruntled look before nodding curtly at Ian and heading back inside.

Once they were alone, Ian pushed Mickey back against the brick wall with a firm hand to his chest, his breath quick and hot against Mickey's face. "I can't believe you fucking did that," he said, knowing he should be pissed, but he wasn't…not really.

On top of everything else he liked about Mickey, he loved the fact that Mickey seemed to be so protective over him. It was nice to have someone get like that over him. He wasn't used to it. "This is my fucking job, Mickey. You can't just come in here and start fights with people!"

"The guy put his fucking hands on you," Mickey shot back, his chest rising and falling as he stared back into Ian's eyes, not backing down. He spat out some blood before saying, "like hell I was just going to sit back and let him touch you like that!"

"I deal with that shit all the time, Mickey. I could've handled it!"

"Yeah, well, I handled it for you," Mickey snapped, still wiping at his lip. "You're fucking welcome."

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that?" Ian rasped before his eyes fell to Mickey's wet, bloodied lips. He then clutched Mickey's shirt and surged forward to crush his lips against Mickey's. "So fuckin' stupid," he muttered as the kiss softened. He cupped Mickey's face in his hands as he angled his head to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into the coppery taste of Mickey's mouth.

Mickey reached up and grabbed Ian's wrists as he pushed closer against him. "Fuck…Ian."

"So fuckin' stupid, Mickey," Ian muttered as he buried his face in Mickey's neck, his breath hot and shallow against Mickey's skin.

Mickey turned his head and nuzzled his nose in Ian's hair. "Think you can cut out of here early?"

Ian nodded against Mickey's shoulder and then pulled away. He latched his mouth onto Mickey's again and then pulled away with a tug to Mickey's bottom lip. "Give me a minute," he said huskily before going back inside.

* * *

As Mickey fumbled with his keys to unlock his door a little while later, he let out a lustful moan as Ian pressed up against him from behind, his large hands gripping Mickey's waist, pulling Mickey back against him. "Shit," he said as he dropped the keys and then bent to pick them up.

Ian took the opportunity to rub himself against that ass.

"Aye, give me a minute," Mickey rasped as he attempted to unlock the door again. "As tempting as it is right now, we are not fucking in the hallway."

Ian leaned in and nipped playfully at Mickey's earlobe. "Well, hurry up then. I don't know how much longer I'm gonna last," he said as he grabbed Mickey's ass through his jeans.

Mickey finally got the door unlocked and he was immediately pushed inside. He barely had time to turn around before he was being swept up in Ian's arms, their mouths crushing together.

"Mandy here?" Ian murmured as he pulled away to tear his shirt over his head, before immediately grabbing Mickey by the front of his pants and tugging him closer to undo his belt.

"Nah, man, she went out," Mickey answered throatily as he helped Ian out of his own pants. "She's been going out a lot lately. I think she's seeing someone."

Ian kicked out of his pants and then grabbed Mickey's arm, tugging and leading Mickey over to the couch. He sank down into the cushions, and then pulled Mickey down on top of him.

Mickey smirked down at Ian suggestively as he lowered himself onto Ian's lap. He draped his wrists over Ian's shoulders and began languidly rutting against Ian, their cocks rubbing.

"Fuck, Mickey," Ian said, resting his head back. He then wrapped his arms around Mickey and held him closer. He buried his face in Mickey's neck. "You're fucking perfect, you know that."

Mickey dug his fingers into Ian's hair as he kept rutting against him, the friction causing him to shudder. He tugged Ian's head back and kissed him hungrily, and then groaned into the kiss when Ian's hands smoothed over his ass to spread his cheeks apart. As they got lost in it all, the words began tumbling out of Mickey's mouth. "He doesn't appreciate you like I do," Mickey panted into Ian's mouth. "He doesn't fucking deserve you."

Ian was panting as he pulled away from the kiss and reached between them to grip both of their cocks in his large hand. He began stroking them off at the same time, both of them already close.

"He doesn't see you like I do," Mickey murmured against Ian's ear. "Fuck, Ian, you're…you're everything."

Ian gasped as he hastened his strokes, bringing them both closer to orgasm and taking in every word Mickey was saying to him.

"Fuck, Ian…I'm close," Mickey stammered as he wrapped himself tighter around Ian, their bodies melding together.

"Shit, Mickey," Ian choked out as he came through his fist in warm spurts. Ian continued stroking Mickey until he finally gasped and dug his fingers into Ian's shoulders as his own orgasm rippled through him.

After they floated back down to earth, Ian maneuvered them so that they were lying tangled together on the couch, both of them sticky and wet from come and sweat.

The old Mickey would have been grossed out. The old Mickey would have sent the guy packing immediately after.

This Mickey snuggled closer into Ian's warmth, wrapped himself around him, and drifted off into peaceful, contented sleep.

* * *

Ian woke up a little while later to find that it was already nearing three AM. He glanced down at Mickey, who was sleeping peacefully against his chest. He smiled gently as he softly stroked Mickey's back, not wanting to wake him but knowing he had no choice. "Hey," he said gently as he shook Mickey awake.

Mickey groused and burrowed his face against Ian's chest.

Ian grinned, thinking Mickey looked fucking adorable while he was half-asleep and grumpy as all hell. "Hey, wake up."

"Fuck off," Mickey muttered and snuggled even closer.

"Mick."

Finally, Mickey lifted his head, his left cheek pink from being pressed to Ian's chest for too long and his eyes bleary. "Yeah, okay," Mickey mumbled as he pulled himself away and sat up.

"I should get going," Ian said apologetically as he finished untangling himself from Mickey, and he reluctantly stood up to gather his clothes that were strewn all over the living room floor. "I'd, uh, normally be getting out of work by now, and I don't want him to start wondering where I—" Ian stopped what he was saying, even though his words hung painfully in the air.

"Yeah, okay," Mickey said again as he ran a hand down his sweaty face, trying to ignore the sharp ache in his chest.

"Hey, I'll call you tomorrow, okay?" Ian said after a heavy pause. He gripped Mickey by the chin and leaned down to press a soft, moist kiss against his lips before turning to head towards the door.

Mickey watched after him, wanting to say something…anything…to keep Ian from going home to another man, but there was nothing he could do or say. Mickey had no choice in this. He just had to wait.

Ian tossed Mickey one more sullen look over his shoulder before opening the door and walking out.

Mickey reclined back against the cushions and rested his head back. He swallowed the bitter lump in his throat and blinked away the moisture that was gathering at the corners of his eyes.

He heard the door opening again a moment later, and he looked up to find Ian standing there in the doorway. "You forget something?"

"Are you sure?"

Mickey swallowed hard, his heart thundering in his chest. "Am I sure, what?

"Are you sure you wanna be with me?" Ian blurted, his voice raspy and unsure as he nervously toyed with the bottom of his shirt. "Like really fucking sure? Because I gotta warn you, Mickey, I can be a fucking handful sometimes. There will be times when I talk way too much, or start fights for no good reason. I will figure out how to push your buttons, and I'll definitely fucking push them. I can be a fucking slob. I don't clean up after myself…at all. I'm stubborn as all hell," he went on, even as Mickey stood up from the couch and walked towards him.

"I'm a fucking psycho," he continued once Mickey was standing in front of him, his tattooed hand reaching up to cup Ian's cheek. Ian swallowed the thick lump in his throat and kept going, "I'm unpredictable. I've been okay for the past couple of months, but who the fuck knows when I'll have my next breakdown. I'm a goddamn mess, Mick. I'm a mess. I just want you to be really fucking sure that you want this, that you want me. That you're not going to wake up one day and regret me."

Mickey caressed Ian's cheek with the pad of his thumb before leaning forward and lightly bumping their foreheads together. "I want this," Mickey murmured. "I want all of this, Ian. I want you."

Ian nodded against Mickey's forehead as he let out an unsteady breath. He reached up and encircled Mickey's wrists with his fingers and took a deep breath before saying, "Okay." The word hung between them, stealing Mickey's breath away. "I'll do it…I'll leave him."


	14. Sex, Lies, and Affirmations

Mickey let out a shaky exhale and pressed even closer against Ian, not quite believing what he was hearing. He resisted the ridiculous urge to pinch himself. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Ian whispered, smoothing his hands up and down Mickey's bare arms.

"Yeah?" Mickey asked again, his heart hammering wildly in his chest.

"Fuck, yes. Mickey…I want you," Ian said, smoothing his hands up and over Mickey's shoulders and cupping Mickey's face, forcing the other man to look up at him. "I want this as much as you do. All of it. You make me feel like I can be myself, that it's okay to be myself. That it's okay to be a fucking mess sometimes."

Mickey placed his hands over Ian's hands that were holding his face, and leaned in to silence Ian with a kiss.

Ian kissed him back thoroughly, gently tugging at Mickey's lips with his teeth, and ran his hands down Mickey's arms before entwining their fingers. "Come on," he rasped as he began pulling Mickey back towards the bedroom. "I wanna show you how serious I am."

Once they reached the bedroom, Ian quickly undressed and pulled Mickey back to him, wrapping his arms around Mickey and pressing soft kisses against Mickey's neck.

Mickey dug his fingers into Ian's hair and asked, "Don't you have to…to get back?"

"Nope," Ian murmured as he continued sprinkling soft, moist kisses along Mickey's jaw. "Don't wanna be anywhere else…"

Ian turned and walked backwards to the bed, tugging Mickey with him. He sat down and pulled Mickey closer, so that he was standing between Ian's legs. He ran his large hands over Mickey's chest and stomach before grabbing his hips. He glanced up at Mickey and smiled when he saw the way Mickey was looking at him, like he was actually something fucking special. "C'mere," he rasped as he crawled his way further up the bed, pulling Mickey with him.

Once Ian was lying back against the pillows, he dragged Mickey down for a biting kiss.

Mickey straddled Ian and groaned into the kiss when Ian's hands grabbed and spread his ass.

"Hey," Ian said breathlessly, breaking the lip lock. "Turn the other way. I wanna try something different."

Mickey hesitated for only a brief second before realizing what Ian wanted. He carefully maneuvered himself so that he was facing away from Ian, his knees on either side of Ian's head, his hard cock hovering over Ian's face. He then gasped when Ian wrapped his arms around his thighs and pulled him down, taking Mickey's cock into his mouth. "Fuck, Ian," Mickey choked out as he buckled and relaxed along the length of Ian's body. He gripped Ian's cock and slowly licked at the tip before engulfing him as deep as he could take him.

Ian moaned around Mickey's cock and took him in even further as he angled his head just right against the pillow and relaxed his throat. He squeezed and pushed on Mickey's ass, motioning for Mickey to fuck his face.

Mickey pulled his mouth off of Ian's cock with a gasp and pressed his cheek against Ian's pelvic bone, relishing in the sensation of Ian's lips, tongue, and light scrape of teeth on his cock. He then groaned and engulfed Ian's cock again, sucking and licking him with as much eagerness as Ian was sucking him off.

Ian choked when Mickey thrust down too hard, but instead of pulling away, it dragged a moan out of him and he held Mickey down tighter against him.

"Fuck, Ian. Holy fuck," Mickey gasped as the head of his cock continuously hit the back of Ian's throat. He then licked his lips, groaned and sucked Ian down as deep as he could take him. He bobbed his head on as much of Ian's cock as he could, his hand stroking the rest.

"Shit, Mickey," Ian gasped, removing his mouth from Mickey's dick and turning his head to the side to gasp for air. "Your fucking mouth."

Mickey moaned around Ian as he continued sucking him off, his cheeks hollowed and his fist tight. He could tell, just by the way Ian was panting and writhing beneath him, that Ian was close. He pulled off with a wet pop before Ian could blow his load.

"What the fuck," Ian rasped breathlessly. "Why'd you stop?"

Mickey climbed off of Ian and stood up on wobbly legs. He walked to the nightstand and grabbed the condoms and lube. He tossed the condoms onto Ian's sweaty chest before climbing back onto the bed. With his eyes locked on Ian's, he slicked up and began fucking himself with his fingers. "Gotta get myself ready for you," he husked.

Ian's breath hitched as he went to work rolling the condom on, never once breaking eye contact with Mickey as he gnawed on his bottom lip and finger-fucked himself. "You look so fucking hot right now, holy shit."

Mickey smiled at him lecherously as he continued working his fingers into his ass, never once looking away from Ian's heated stare.

Once Mickey was good to go, he leaned in and kissed Ian hungrily, biting and tugging at his lips, before pulling away and turning around. He hovered over Ian, facing away from him, and gripped Ian's long, thick cock in his fist. Slowly, he lowered himself onto that cock and wiggled and adjusted his way down the entire length until Ian was buried deep, stretching and filling him completely.

"Oh, shit," Ian gasped as he reached out and grabbed a hold of Mickey's hips. "You have the best fucking ass."

Mickey buckled forward and braced his hands on Ian's knees as he adjusted to this new position. "Fuck, feels so fucking good."

Ian was a complete wreck as he ran his hands up and down Mickey's back, over his hips and ass, waiting for him to move. "Please, Mickey, move. Fuck. Can't take it."

Mickey finally began rocking forward, loving the moans and grunts he was pulling from the other man. He set a steady pace as he rode Ian's cock. "Shit, Ian," he moaned. "Feels so fucking good like this."

Ian dug his fingers harder into Mickey's hips and began thrusting upwards into that tight hot heat. "Mick…Mickey, I'm not going to last much longer. Holy fuck."

Mickey quickened his pace and reached down to fist his leaking cock. "Fuck, give me a minute," Mickey stammered breathlessly as he rode Ian, his toes curling and his belly burning with every brush to his prostate.

"Mickey," Ian gasped as he froze and then shuddered through his orgasm, his fingers digging roughly into Mickey's hips.

"Shit, Ian, I'm close. I'm fucking close," Mickey stuttered as he bounced on Ian's dick, his hand tugging at his dick. He tossed his head back and opened his mouth in a silent gasp as he came hard, shooting his load all over Ian's thighs. He continued riding Ian at a slow, even pace until he was completely spent, and then he climbed off carefully, hissing a little at the sting of Ian's cock pulling out. He collapsed next to Ian in a sweaty, panting mess, and then laughed breathlessly. "Holy fucking shit."

Ian rolled over in a daze and threw an arm around Mickey, nuzzling his face against the side of Mickey's head and kissing his cheek.

Mickey closed his eyes, still struggling for breath, and reached a hand up to sift his fingers through Ian's sweaty hair.

"You're fucking amazing, you know that?" Ian murmured against Mickey's shoulder.

"Don't fucking forget it," Mickey teased before pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Ian's forehead. "So are you," he mumbled against Ian's skin.

Soon, they both drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Ian was the first to wake. He stretched under the weight of another body, and opened his bleary eyes to glance down at Mickey, who was sleeping soundly and contentedly against his chest. Ian smiled gingerly as he watched Mickey sleep, hating the fact that he had to disturb him.

He gently lifted Mickey's arm up and rolled out of bed carefully, eager to relieve his aching bladder. He didn't even bother throwing on boxers. He opened the bedroom door and poked his head out to make sure the coast was clear before quietly making his way to the bathroom.

"Hey."

Ian jumped and spun around to face Mandy, who was standing behind him, her arms crossed over her chest. "Uh, hey," he said sheepishly. He then remembered that he was standing there completely naked and quickly reached down to cover himself. He could tell, though, by the arch of Mandy's eyebrow, that she had gotten an eyeful of his goods, and that she was impressed by what she saw.

"Seriously? My brother takes all that? He must be a fuckin' pro," Mandy muttered.

Ian didn't know what to say to that, so he just stood there awkwardly covering his junk.

Mandy sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. "Look, I don't give a shit about what you two do, okay? Mickey's going to do whatever the hell he wants to do anyway, no matter how many times I tell him it's a terrible fucking idea." She paused before adding, "Just don't hurt him, okay? He's been through enough shit in his life. He's been hurt enough. If you're not serious about this, about him, let him the fuck go."

Ian visibly swallowed and dropped his eyes to the floor. "I'm leaving him…leaving Ayden," he finally said after a stretched out silence. He then lifted his eyes to meet hers again. "I wanna be with Mickey."

"I hope so," Mandy said. "Don't fuck him over, 'cause then you'll have to answer to me, and I'm a lot fucking scarier than he is."

Ian watched as Mandy turned and shut herself in her bedroom. He ran a hand through his hair before turning towards the bathroom, Mandy's words resonating in his head.

* * *

A little while later, Mickey groaned and dug his face against Ian's chest. "Jesus Christ, what the fuck is that noise!"

Ian pressed his lips to Mickey's forehead and smiled against his skin as he wrapped his arm tighter around the grumpy man. "Sounds like they're doing road work."

Mickey lifted his tousled head and glanced at the clock with bleary eyes. "At eight o'clock in the fuckin' morning? What the fuck!" His face then softened and he glanced up at Ian. "Shit, man, it's eight in the morning."

"Yeah?"

"And you're still here."

"Yeah," Ian grumbled again. "I'm still here."

"You really sure about this?" Mickey asked, lifting himself up on an elbow to stare down at Ian more pointedly. "This is what you really want?"

Ian reached up and caressed Mickey's cheek. "I've never been more sure about anything," he said huskily, "and that's saying a lot because I'm usually indecisive as shit, about fucking everything, but—" He was silenced when Mickey leaned in to kiss him. He moaned against Mickey's lips, and then wrapped an arm around him, maneuvering them so that Mickey was on his back.

Ian pulled away from the kiss, locked eyes with Mickey, and sucked on two of his own fingers before reaching between their bodies to press them into Mickey, who was still stretched and slick from the night before.

"Mick," Ian whispered as he scissored his fingers to loosen Mickey. He dropped a kiss to Mickey's nose, and then feathered soft kisses across Mickey's cheek before burying his face in Mickey's neck.

Mickey arched his back and groaned next to Ian's ear as Ian entered him with one slick thrust. Mickey wrapped his arms around Ian and braced his arms around Ian's head.

"Feels so fucking good. All of you, feels so good," Ian breathed against Mickey's neck as he rolled his hips, moving in and out of Mickey with slow, shallow thrusts.

Mickey nuzzled his nose in Ian's hair as he wrapped his limbs around him, arching and meeting Ian thrust for thrust until his orgasm shook him and his come shot between them.

A couple dozen thrusts later, Ian shuddered as he came, his breath hot and fast against Mickey's neck. He pulled out and rolled off of Mickey, but then pulled Mickey to him in the next instant and wrapped himself around him, their legs tangling under the sheets. "Sorry, that was dumb," he mumbled against Mickey's forehead. "I got lost in the moment and didn't put on a condom."

Mickey rested his cheek against Ian's chest and listened to his rapid heartbeat. He placed his hand on Ian's chest and watched as it rose and fell with Ian's quick breaths. "We've been doing a lot of stupid shit lately."

"Yeah," was all Ian said.

"When are you going to tell him, man?" Mickey asked, deciding right then and there that he needed to know. He was done waiting, he was done being the other man. He closed his eyes and listened as Ian's heart rate began to slowly decrease.

"I'll tell him today," Ian said finally. "The sooner I end it with him, the better. We can't keep doing this."

Mickey looked up at him, watched as a range of emotions flickered across Ian's face, and he knew that what Ian was doing for him was huge. He knew Ian was giving up a lot to take a chance on him, and his heart swelled at the thought. It was on the tip of his tongue to let it all out, to just tell Ian the truth about not being a wedding planner, but the words wouldn't come out.

His chance was lost when Ian started to sit up. "I should get going."

Mickey sat up and watched as Ian climbed off the bed to get dressed. "You gonna be alright? You want me to come with you, wait outside or something?"

Ian tugged his jeans on, and then grabbed for his shirt. "No, I'll be alright."

Mickey rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip before asking, "He wouldn't hurt you, would he?"

Ian froze in the process of pulling his shirt on, and then followed through with the action before fixing his eyes on Mickey's. "No," he said with a sigh. "No, he wouldn't hurt me."

Mickey climbed off the bed and walked over to Ian. He grabbed Ian by the wrist and tugged him forward so that their bodies were flush together. There was so much he wanted to say in the moment, but he couldn't quite bring himself to say those things. Instead, he leaned in and kissed Ian sweetly on the mouth.

When they pulled apart, Ian smiled at him. He reached up to stroke Mickey's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I'll see you in a couple hours?"

"I'll be here," Mickey rasped, and then watched as Ian turned and left the bedroom.

All Mickey could do was wait.

* * *

Ian walked into the penthouse and held his breath as he shut the door behind himself and toed off his shoes. He then slowly made his way into the living area and found Ayden at his desk, as per usual.

Only Ayden wasn't doing any work this time. Instead, he was casually leaning back in his swivel chair, his stare hard as he regarded Ian. "Where were you all night?"

Ian's heart hammered in his throat and he shuffled his weight from foot to foot. On the way over, he had thought up multiple ways to start this conversation, but nothing seemed right.

How does one go about telling their fiance, whom they're supposed to marry in a week, that they want to be with someone else? That they're maybe in love with someone else…

"Let me guess," Ayden said haughtily before Ian could even answer. "Another after-hours loft party, right?"

Ian lifted a shoulder in a weak attempt at a shrug and remained silent, feeling small under the other man's scrutiny.

Ayden then surprised Ian when he leaned forward and buried his head in his hands. He let out a deep, shaky exhale.

Ian braced himself for whatever was coming next, knowing that Ayden was anything but happy.

Ayden finally lifted his head, revealing red-rimmed eyes. "I lost the account," he finally said, his voice broken. "They went with someone else's pitch."

Ian took in what Ayden was saying, his shoulders slumping. He suddenly felt like the world's biggest asshole. Ayden had worked hard on that account for weeks, and it had all been for nothing.

Ayden ran a hand down his face and let out a shaky breath as his eyes turned to stare out the balcony doors. "All that time, work, and effort for nothing."

"I'm sorry, Ayd," Ian finally said, not knowing what else he could say.

Ayden laughed dryly, distractedly. "Yeah." He then looked back at Ian, his expression softening eventually. He stood up in the next instant and walked over to Ian. He grabbed Ian by the arm and pulled him closer.

Ian resisted the instinct to stiffen his body at the contact and allowed Ayden to hug him.

Ayden wrapped his arms around Ian and dug his face in his shoulder.

Ian reluctantly brought his arms up and hugged Ayden back.

Ayden heaved a heavy sigh into Ian's shirt before speaking, his words muffled. "I do love you." He then pulled back to look into Ian's eyes. "You know that, don't you? I've just been under so much stress these past few weeks." He reached up and caressed Ian's cheek with his thumb. "At the end of the day, you're all I have. Sometimes I think I forget that."

Ian visibly swallowed, not knowing what to say.

Ayden leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Ian's mouth before pulling away. "I haven't slept all night. I think I'm going to go lie down for a bit. You want to join me? You look like you could use some rest yourself."

"I can't," Ian said, anxious to get away from Ayden's sad, desperate eyes. Anxious to get away from everything for a little while. "I promised Fiona I'd help her out around the house today."

Ayden let out a dry chuckle. "Right, of course," he said roughly.

Ian watched as Ayden turned and headed towards the bedroom without another word.

* * *

After running for nearly two hours nonstop to relieve some pent up tension and frustration, Ian headed to the club, deciding to start his shift early. He needed the distraction, or else he would start to lose his head and that was the absolute last thing he needed.

Ian was a couple of hours into his busy shift when he looked up to see Mickey walk through the door. At just the sight of the other man, Ian immediately felt better, and he smiled softly to himself as he poured a drink for an awaiting customer.

Mickey instantly spotted Ian and headed over to him. "Aye."

"Hey," Ian said. He then looked away as Mickey stared, knowing that Mickey was waiting for some sort of affirmation that Ian just couldn't give him yet.

"I texted you a few times, didn't get anything back," Mickey said after Ian placed a beer in front of him.

"Yeah, I've been pretty busy all day," Ian said, still avoiding Mickey's eyes as he wiped at the bar top. "Went for a long run, visited my sister for a little bit, been here since six…"

"Really?" Mickey asked, his irritation apparent. "I waited all day for a fucking text or phone call, anything to let me know what's going on, and you tell me about your fucking leisurely jog?"

"Hey. Can we not do this here?" Ian pleaded, finally looking at him. "I'm working."

Mickey arched his eyebrows in annoyance before eventually softening and lowering his voice. "Aye, what's going on? Did you talk to him? What happened? Christ, give me something here, Ian."

Ian sighed before turning to the other bartender on duty. "I'll be back in a couple minutes." On his coworker's nod, Ian walked around the bar and motioned for Mickey to follow him outside.

Once they were outside and alone, Ian turned to Mickey and scratched at the back of his neck, avoiding Mickey's eyes yet again. "Look, I couldn't do it, alright?"

"You couldn't do it?" Mickey repeated stiffly. "What the fuck does that even mean?"

"It means I couldn't do it!" Ian exclaimed.

Mickey laughed dryly and ran a hand over his mouth. "Fuck, Ian, give me a little more than that! Why the fuck couldn't you do it?"

"Look, this isn't fucking easy for me, alright?" Ian retorted. He impatiently waited for a group of people to pass them on their way into the club before continuing. "For the past two years, he's all I had. I'm all he has. He has no one. His parents died when he was young, he has no siblings, I'm all he has. Regardless of how I feel about you, it…it doesn't mean that I hate him. And for every shitty thing he's ever done to me, he was also really fucking good to me a lot of the time, and he was there through my worst shit. So, excuse me for wanting to take some time to…to just—"

"To what, huh? To figure out if it's really me you wanna be with and not him?" Mickey shot back, his voice shaking with emotion.

"What? No! That's not what this is about, Mickey," Ian said, stepping forward and grabbing Mickey's hand. "I want you, okay? I want to be with you. But I also want to be careful with his feelings. I already feel like the world's biggest asshole as it is, I just want to do this right. He's going through some shit right now and…I just have to do this right. Today just wasn't the right time."

Mickey sighed unsteadily, closed his eyes, and leaned forward to tap his forehead against Ian's. "Fuck."

Ian reached his hands up and cupped them around Mickey's face. "Just give me a little time, alright? All I need is a couple of days, so I can have a proper talk with him when the time's right. I did a pretty shitty thing to the guy, so I need to be decent about this."

Mickey nodded against Ian's forehead and sniffed as he pulled away. "Yeah, okay. Alright."

Ian leaned in and kissed Mickey tenderly on the mouth before pulling away. "I gotta get back inside," he said reluctantly. "I'll text you later?"

Mickey just nodded again and thumbed at his lower lip as he watched Ian turn to head back into the club. He suddenly knew what he had to do. Ian had to know everything. Mickey couldn't ask him to do this without knowing everything there was to know.

"Aye, hold up a minute."

Ian turned back around just as he was about to re-enter the club. "Yeah?" he asked dejectedly.

"Look, there's, uh, there's something I need to talk to you about," Mickey said, his voice unsteady as he grabbed for Ian's arm and pulled him closer. "Before any of this shit goes any further, I need to be honest with you. I can't ask you to make this big of a fucking decision without you knowing everything first."

"Fuck, Mick, you're scaring me here," Ian said after a strained pause with a curt laugh. "What is it, huh? Were you born a chick or something? You got the clap?"

"Nah, man, nothing like that," Mickey said, stalling.

Ian hunched down a few inches so that he was eye-level with Mickey. "What is it?"

"I'm…fuck," Mickey began, rubbing at his jaw before continuing. "I'm not really a fucking wedding planner. I've been lying to you."

The amused smirk fell from Ian's face as he took in Mickey's admission. "What do you mean you're not a wedding planner? What're you talking about?"

"Mandy's the wedding planner, not me. That office you walked into that day? That's Mandy's office."

"Okay," Ian said slowly, clearly confused.

Mickey ran a hand over his mouth before continuing. "I pretended to be a wedding planner because I wanted to…I wanted to get to know you."

Ian was quiet for a long stretch of time before finally saying, "You wanted to get to know me? So you pretended to be a wedding planner."

"I know it sounds fucking pathetic, and like some sort of crazy stalker type shit, but it's the truth," Mickey said. "I should have told you sooner."

Ian finally pulled his arm from Mickey's hold. "You've been lying to me this whole time? So, what…you were doing it to sleep with me, is that it? You knew I was engaged, so you pretended you were a fucking wedding planner to fuck me? Was I just some sort of fucked up conquest, another notch on your bedpost? Or was I just a big fucking joke to you, huh? Explain it to me, 'cause I don't fucking get it."

"No, fuck, Ian!" Mickey exclaimed. "It wasn't like that. I just…I just wanted to know you. I never thought it would even get this far."

Ian scoffed and looked away.

Mickey took a step forward, and then watched with a sinking heart as Ian recoiled and stepped back. He then watched as Ian blinked away unshed tears. "Ian—"

"You're asking me to take this giant leap for you, and you've been lying to me the whole time? And you tell me this now?" Ian asked, his voice broken.

"I didn't do any of this to hurt you, Ian. You gotta know that. Everything else…everything else is the truth. I'm me. I'm a twenty-three-year-old, fucked up kid from the South Side of Chicago, who had a shit childhood, who works in a shitty diner, and smokes like a fucking chimney. That's all real. Everything else I've ever told you has been real. The way…the way I feel about you…that's real."

Ian reached up and quickly wiped at his eye. "Fuck, I need to get back to work," he said, his voice small. "I just need to go and think about everything. I can't do this right now."

"Aye, man, don't go like this! C'mere," Mickey said, grabbing for Ian's arm again. He was relieved when Ian didn't immediately pull away this time. He pulled Ian close and cupped a hand over the back of Ian's head. "I'm sorry, alright," he murmured as he nuzzled Ian's hair. "I didn't do it to hurt you."

Ian eventually pulled away, avoiding Mickey's eyes. "I gotta get back inside."

Mickey watched as Ian turned and walked away from him. He ran a shaky hand over his face, and then rubbed at the back of his neck before eventually turning and heading in the direction of his apartment, deciding to give Ian the space he needed. He would call Ian tomorrow and try to make things right.

When Mickey was a block away from the club, he heard movement from behind him, and then a rough voice called out to him.

"What's up, faggot? Have a little fight with your boyfriend back there?"

Mickey turned around and let out a dry chuckle when he noticed the three men standing behind him, one of them holding a tire iron. He suddenly noticed how dark it was, how eerily quiet and deserted the street was. He turned fully to face the trio, put on his best stone face, and spoke as if his heart wasn't thumping wildly in his chest. "The fuck you just call me?"

"You heard me, faggot," the tallest of the three men said as they began slowly advancing on Mickey.

"Alright, you need to back the fuck up," Mickey warned, his tough demeanor cracking slightly as he instinctively took a few steps back.

"What the fuck are you gonna do about it if we don't?"

Before Mickey knew what was happening, he was surrounded and backed up against the wall.

Mickey put up a pretty good fight—got in a few good hits—but, in the end, he was quickly overpowered and was relentlessly beaten. He was left unconscious, bloodied, and battered on the cold, dirty sidewalk.


	15. Turning Tables

The club was in full swing, patrons lining up at the bar to place their drink orders, and Ian was thankful for the distractions; thankful to be able to keep his mind off of Mickey for at least a little while. He was still smarting from their fight, but he would deal with all of that later. He couldn't process any of it right then.

Ian looked up from pouring a drink when a group of patrons came pouring in through the entrance, running high on adrenaline and talking animatedly over each other. He could just barely make out their conversation over the loud thump of the music, but the words 'cops' and 'bloody mess' caught his attention.

"What's going on?" Ian asked as they all crowded around the bar in front of him.

"Cops are a block down," a tall guy wearing a pink boa explained. "Some guy was beaten up pretty bad. They think it was a fag bashing."

"Shit." Ian frowned and shook his cocktail shaker as the group of friends went back to talking among themselves. He thought about the poor guy that had gotten beaten. It wasn't the first time something like that had happened around there, and it definitely wouldn't be the last.

Ian went back to his work, getting lost in it to keep his mind off of everything. He didn't give a second thought to the bashing victim for the rest of his shift. He certainly hoped the guy was okay, but he had his own shit to deal with.

* * *

When Ian got home later that night, he was surprised (and disappointed) to find that Ayden was still awake, sitting up in bed with the bedside lamp on, his laptop open on his lap.

"Hey," Ian said apprehensively, never knowing what kind of mood Ayden would be in these days. He tore his shirt over his head and removed his jeans. Normally, he slept naked, but that night he fully intended on keeping his boxers on.

"Hey," Ayden said, glancing up only briefly from his computer. "How was work?" he asked dully.

"Good. What are you still doing up? It's after three."

"I can't sleep," Ayden responded blandly. "Have too much on my mind."

Ian walked to the bed and quickly got under the covers, fully intending on feigning exhaustion should Ayden try anything. He rolled over onto his side away from his fiancé and, after a few minutes of listening to Ayden tap away on his laptop, Ian finally allowed his mind to drift to Mickey for the first time since their fight.

Just as he was starting to get lost in his thoughts, he felt the bed dip, and then he felt heat from Ayden's body right before the other man wrapped an arm around him.

Ian closed his eyes and inhaled as Ayden pressed against him from behind, his cock hard against Ian's lower back as he dropped soft, moist kisses along the back of Ian's neck.

Ian knew it would be so easy to just give in—to turn around and give himself to the other man—to forget about the past month and a half and get lost in Ayden's kisses. It would be so easy to allow his anger at Mickey to take over.

"What're you doing?" Ian asked as Ayden worked his hand under the waistband of Ian's boxers to wrap around Ian's flaccid dick.

"I want you," Ayden murmured against the back of Ian's neck. "Want you to fuck me."

"I'm tired," Ian mumbled, pretending to be a lot more tired than he was. "It was a really busy night at the club."

"That's fine. You don't have to do any of the work," Ayden murmured suggestively.

"Not tonight, alright? I just wanna sleep."

"What else is new," Ayden complained, as he pulled his hand out from Ian's boxers and turned away from him.

Ian felt relieved—relieved that Ayden wasn't pressing for sex, relieved that he wouldn't have to touch his own fiancé—and that was when Ian knew for sure that it was really over.

Once Ayden turned out the lights and eventually dozed off, Ian remained wide awake; his thoughts once again drifting to Mickey.

* * *

The next morning, Ian shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing at his bleary eyes as he made his way to the coffee pot. He glanced over to find Ayden already sitting at the counter island with a cup of steaming coffee and a newspaper spread out in front of him.

"G'morning," Ian grumbled as he grabbed his chipped Chicago White Sox mug from the cupboard.

Ayden murmured incoherently, not bothering to look up from the business section.

Ian poured his coffee and turned to lean his butt back against the counter, taking the time to study Ayden. Ian remembered a time—not too long ago—when he had loved Ayden, when he'd thought he had wanted to spend his life with Ayden. He couldn't help but wonder when things had gone so terribly wrong.

When had Ayden stopped looking at him? Really looking at him? When did Ian start feeling relieved when they didn't have sex? When did their conversations turn into one-word answers and monosyllabic grunts?

Ian didn't know the answers to any of those questions. He didn't know if Mickey had changed all of that, or if things had been changing even before that. Or maybe none of it had been real to begin with. All Ian knew was that it was time. It was over.

"Hey, Ayd," Ian started apprehensively, his voice cracking. "Can we talk for a minute? It's important."

Ayden finished the paragraph he was reading before finally giving Ian his full attention. "Yeah, make it quick, though. I have to be at the office in an hour."

"Do you—" Ian began, suddenly unable to come up with the right words. He suddenly felt very small under Ayden's scrutiny. "Do you ever feel like we—" Before Ian could finish his sentence, his phone vibrated on the counter behind him. He sighed and turned to glance down at it, finding an unknown number on the screen. He denied the call with a swipe of his finger before turning back to Ayden.

"Do I ever what?" Ayden pressed irritably.

"It's just," Ian continued, clearing his throat and avoiding Ayden's stare at all costs. "Lately, I've been thinking that maybe we should—"

Ian's phone began vibrating behind him again. "Jesus," he exclaimed as he turned to decline the call once again.

"What are you saying here, Ian?" Ayden asked, his impatience showing through in his voice. "Spit it out. I don't have all day."

"I've been doing some thinking, and I think that maybe we should—" Ian was once again interrupted by a chirp that notified him that there was a voicemail waiting for him.

When he turned back to glance at his phone once again, Ayden stood up with an aggravated huff. "I'm going to take a shower. Talk to me later, when I can have your full attention."

Ian watched Ayden walk away, slightly relieved to have the chance to put off the inevitable for just a little while longer. He picked up his phone to check the voicemail.

'Ian, hey? I hope this is your number. I got it from Mickey's phone.'

Ian immediately straightened when he realized it was Mickey's sister Mandy who had been trying to call him. His heart began racing in his chest, instantly knowing that something was wrong.

'I hope it's okay that I'm calling you,' Mandy continued, her voice unsteady. 'Mickey was…he was attacked last night after leaving the Fairy Tail over in Boystown. He was…he was beaten up pretty fucking bad. We're over at Lakeshore hospital, third floor. I just thought…thought that you would want to know.'

Ian pulled his phone away from his ear and stared down at it blankly, his heart in his throat and his eyes stinging with tears.

Ayden came shuffling back into the kitchen then, a towel wrapped around his waist, unaware of his fiance's inner turmoil. "I forgot to grab my—" He stopped in his tracks when he saw the look on Ian's face. "What's wrong? Who was on the phone?"

Ian just kept staring down at his phone, blinking back tears.

It suddenly dawned on him. Mickey had been the bashing victim from the night before. The victim he had so blatantly disregarded the night before; the victim he hadn't given a second thought to all fucking night.

"Ian," Ayden said, now standing beside him. He placed a hand on Ian's bare shoulder. "What happened? Is it your family? Is something wrong?"

"That was…it was Mandy."

"Mandy?" Ayden asked with a frown. "Who's Mandy?"

"Mickey's…Mickey's sister," Ian said numbly. "You met her at my birthday party."

"Why is our wedding planner's sister calling you?" Ayden asked monotonously. "And why do you look like you're about to vomit?"

Ian didn't answer him. Instead, he brushed past Ayden and headed for the bedroom. He hastily got dressed, pulling on whatever clothes he could find, not even knowing if he even fucking matched but not caring.

"What are you doing?" Ayden asked impatiently from the doorway. "Where are you going? Ian, talk to me here! What the hell's going on?"

"Mickey was…he was beaten up pretty bad last night, outside of the Fairy Tail," Ian explained numbly, his voice unsteady no matter how hard he tried to keep it together. He could feel Ayden's eyes boring into him, but he didn't have time to answer any of his questions right then. He just had to get to Mickey.

"Our wedding planner was at the Fairy Tale last night? And he was beaten up? That's what got you so fucking freaked out?" Ayden asked exasperatedly. "Ian, is there some—"

"Look," Ian interrupted abruptly, turning to face him. "I can't talk about this right now, okay? I'll just…I'll see you later." With that, Ian brushed past Ayden and headed for the door.

Ayden followed after him. "Do you want me to drive you at least? Fuck, Ian!"

"No," Ian said quickly as he opened the door. "No, I'll just catch a cab. He's over at Lakeshore, so it shouldn't take too long to get there. I'll…I'll call you."

"Ian," Ayden called out before Ian could get out the door. "Why do you look as if someone just told you the world was fucking ending right now?"

Ian swallowed thickly and blinked back bitter tears. It was on the tip of his tongue to just tell Ayden everything; to tell Ayden that they were over, but he wasn't going to do that yet. He had to get to that hospital. He had to get to Mickey. "We'll talk later, okay?"

Ayden could only stare blankly at the closed door in front of him.

* * *

As soon as the cab pulled up to the hospital, Ian tossed some wrinkled bills at the cab driver, and then rushed inside and up to the third floor.

Ian stalked up to the window to ask a nurse to point him in the right direction, but was quickly pulled away by Mandy. He turned to regard her, his heart sinking at the paleness of her face, and the wetness of her red-rimmed eyes. "Shit, Mandy."

"I'm sorry I called you," Mandy said, her voice shaking. "There's no one else. I didn't know who else to call, and I figured you would want to know—"

"Hey," Ian said, lightly grabbing her by the shoulders. "I'm glad you called me."

Mandy nodded and swiped at her cheek. "I didn't want to get you in trouble with your guy."

Ian screwed up his face to let her know that he wasn't worried about that. "How…how is he? Is he okay?" he asked thickly as Mandy led him into the small waiting room off to the side.

"He's pretty bad," Mandy said unsteadily. "A few broken ribs, a broken arm, his face is pretty messed up…but he'll be okay, they think. Nothing too serious. I just—"

"Hey," Ian said, pulling Mandy in for a hug as she broke down and cried against his chest. "It's okay," he murmured as his own tears started to slide down his cheeks. "He's strong. He'll get through this."

"He was always so fucking afraid of something like this happening to him, you know?" Mandy said, pulling away from Ian's embrace. "When he was younger—before he came out—he was always afraid that being gay was this big horrible thing and—after a while—he stopped being so afraid. He stopped hating who he was. Fuck, why would someone do this to him!"

"I don't know," Ian grumbled, running a hand over his face. He was suddenly filled with indescribable anger. "Who the fuck knows what motivates people to do these things."

"Mickey loves you. I know he does. I know he'd want you here," Mandy said after a long pause.

Ian nodded and scratched at the back of his neck, a million emotions rushing through him. "Can I see him?"

* * *

Ian stopped outside of Mickey's room and peered in through the small rectangular window on the door. He sucked in a deep breath before pushing his way inside, preparing himself for the worst.

"Hey," Ian said tentatively as he shut the door behind him. The sight of Mickey lying in the hospital bed—all bruised, broken, and battered—hit him harder than he thought it would. He forced back the tears for Mickey's sake as he walked closer to the bed. "Shit, Mickey."

"What are you doing here?" Mickey asked, glancing away; looking embarrassed to be seen like that.

"Mandy called me, told me what happened," Ian said thickly. He reached down without a second thought and took Mickey's hand into his own. He laced his fingers through Mickey's and bit his lower lip as it trembled. He took in the sight of Mickey's bandaged head, his two black eyes, and split lip. "Fuck, Mickey, look at you—"

"Aye, I'm fine," Mickey said weakly, giving Ian's hand a small squeeze. "Alright? Just a couple bumps and bruises. Ain't like I never had those before."

"Some guy…some guy came into the bar after what happened to you and I brushed it off," Ian said, his voice broken. "I went about my fucking night as if nothing was wrong. If I would've known it was you—"

"There's nothing you could have done to stop it."

"That's bullshit!" Ian exclaimed. "If I wouldn't have fought with you, you wouldn't have left the club. You would've been at the bar with me!"

"Ian, this isn't your fault, alright? I lied to you. You had every right to be pissed off."

Ian stared down at Mickey, his tears finally betraying him and sliding down his cheeks. "I don't care that you're not a fucking wedding planner, Mick. I just care about you."

"I'm glad you're here," Mickey said after a strained silence, giving Ian's hand another squeeze.

Ian bent down and pressed his lips gingerly to Mickey's forehead. "I am here…and I'm not going anywhere," he whispered against Mickey's skin. "I'm leaving him tonight. I want to be with you, Mickey. I don't care about anything else. It's you, alright?"

Mickey reached up and dug his fingers into Ian's hair, holding him in place. "It's me, huh?" he said huskily.

"You're stuck with me now, so your ass better be prepared," Ian said, pulling back and smiling down at Mickey softly. He then leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against Mickey's mouth.

"When it comes to you, my ass is always prepared," Mickey joked. He laughed, and then immediately winced in pain.

Ian turned serious, and then leaned in to kiss him again.

Neither of them noticed Ayden watching them through the small window in the door.

* * *

Later that evening—after Ian and Mandy had gone home for the night, promising to be back bright and early the next morning—Mickey was staring up at the TV mounted on the wall, enjoying his small cup of lime jello, when Ayden walked in. He slowly lowered his spoon and watched with a quickened pulse as Ayden shut the door behind him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Ayden walked further into the room and shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he glanced up at the television.

Mickey watched him, his heart beating a million miles a minute. Had Ian finally come clean to Ayden? Was Ayden there now to kick his ass even worse?

Ayden stared up at the TV for a few more beats before averting his eyes to Mickey. "Ian doesn't know that I'm here," he started.

"Okay," Mickey said slowly. "Again…why the fuck are you here?"

Ayden was silent for a long time before saying. "I know Ian better than anyone," he began. "I know all about his fucked up family. Did you know his sister Fiona almost killed his baby brother when she left coke sitting out? Did you know his mom tried to commit suicide one Thanksgiving, right on the kitchen floor? Slashed both of her wrists. Ian saw the whole thing. It all fucked him up pretty bad."

Mickey tore his eyes away from Ayden's and remained silent.

"Did you know when he was fifteen, he fucked his thirty-five-year-old married boss? Or that when he was at his lowest lows a few years back, he allowed three guys to fuck him at the same time, just to score drugs?" Ayden continued smugly.

Mickey swallowed thickly as he took it all in, the very thought of Ian putting himself in that situation making his stomach churn.

"I know him. I've seen him at his lowest points. I was there for him when no one else was. I took care of him, I saved him," Ayden went on, his voice hard. "You really think I'm going to let him go without a fight?"

Mickey finally dared to look at him. "It's his choice to make," he said unsteadily.

"He's confused right now," Ayden said, his voice flat. "Deep down, he knows where he belongs."

"You don't see him," Mickey said monotonously as he clenched his hands at his sides. "You don't love him. You don't let him laugh, you don't let him live. You only drag him the fuck down."

"I take care of him!" Ayden exclaimed. "I've been taking care of him, for two fucking years now! Maybe I'm a little possessive—and maybe I don't condone a lot of the shit he does—but I do it because I know what it's like when it's bad. I try to protect him from it!"

"He doesn't love you," Mickey reasoned after a short tense pause.

Ayden let out a humorless chuckle and paced to the other side of the room to look out the window. He was quiet for a long time before saying, "And you think he loves you?" He turned back to glare at Mickey. "You really think you can take care of him? You really think you're good enough for him, some fucking white trash wedding planner from the South Side. Tell me, how much money do you have in your bank account right now?"

"He doesn't care about how much fucking money I have," Mickey snapped, Ayden's words hitting him hard.

Ayden laughed bitterly again. "He doesn't care how much money you have? Are you delusional? Do you see the clothes he wears, the Rolex on his wrist? Do you have any idea how much medication for bipolar disorder runs these days? I'm the one who buys his medicine. I'm the one who pays for his hospital stays when he has a breakdown. I'm the one who takes care of him! Can you do that for him? Can you shell out thousands of dollars a month to do that? Can you take care of him?"

Mickey forced his eyes away and blinked back the bitter tears threatening to spill. He knew all of this already—knew that he wasn't good enough for Ian—that he would never be able to give Ian everything he wanted or deserved. Hearing Ayden say it, though, hit him like a punch to the gut.

"I want you to stay away from him," Ayden went on. "I want you to walk away from him. He belongs with me, someone who loves him and can take care of him. Whatever little meaningless fling the two of you have going on here is over. Done."

"I can't do that," Mickey said slowly as he stared down at his hands. "I can't walk away from him."

"Yes, you can," Ayden spat venomously. "Ian is confused right now. You're teasing him with this fun, carefree idea of a life, but that's not the kind of life Ian is able to live, not with his disorder. He needs stability in his life, he needs structure. He doesn't need the shit you have to offer."

"Which is what?" Mickey snapped. "Someone who actually fucking loves him? Someone who likes seeing him laugh? Someone who puts him first, always? I don't give a shit what you say, I'm not giving up on him. It's his choice to make!"

Ayden stared back at him, his expression cold. "What can you offer him, honestly? Say it is his choice and he actually chooses you—how long do you actually think he'll stick around when the excitement wears off? When the sex isn't as good anymore? We were pretty hot and heavy in the beginning, too. Look how that turned out."

Mickey swallowed thickly, half-tempted to press his button to summon a nurse.

"I know you're not really a wedding planner."

Mickey's head shot up, wondering if Ian had told him.

"I know a lot of things about you, Mikhailo. I know how your sister is the real wedding planner, and how her little business is her life—how hard she worked for it. It would be a real shame if someone were to come along and ruin that."

"You wouldn't fucking dare," Mickey spat.

"All it would take is a few negative reviews and someone with money. I can tear her business down before she even knew what hit her."

Mickey's chest rose and fell heavily as he glared back at the other man with pure hatred.

"You walk away from Ian right now, I'll leave your sister alone. I'll even throw in some cash to help you cover your hospital bills, since I know they don't give you medical insurance at that shit diner you work at," Ayden continued smugly, fully aware that he had the upper hand now. "I'll even round it up. I'll give you twenty-five grand—right now—and I'll leave your sister and her little business alone if you walk away from him. Break it off completely."

Mickey tore his eyes away and stared blankly at nothing.

"You know, deep down, that walking away is what's best for him," Ayden continued, his tone not as dark but still threatening. "Do the right thing here. Let him be with someone who can actually take care of him."

Mickey swallowed the lump in his throat and rested his head back against his pillow, bitter tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

Ayden walked over to the small bedside table and removed his checkbook from his pocket. He bent down, scribbled hastily, and then placed the check high on Mickey's upper thigh. "Do we have an understanding?"

"Just get the fuck out," Mickey said numbly.

"Should I leave the check?"

"Just leave the fucking check and get the fuck out, Jesus!" Mickey yelled, watching as the other man turned to leave.

When Mickey was finally alone, he dug his head back into the pillow and punched his fist into the bed at his side. "Fuck!" he yelled as the hot, bitter tears began flowing down his cheeks. He picked up the check and crumbled it, intent on ripping it up, but then he stopped himself.

He knew, deep down, that Ayden was right. He wasn't good enough for Ian. He would never be good enough for Ian. He couldn't offer Ian the things Ayden could offer him, and he certainly wouldn't be able to buy the medication Ian needed.

He knew, in the end, that he was doing what was best for Ian…even if he was hurting himself to do it.


	16. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Ian paced back and forth across the span of the massive living area as he went back and forth in his head all the ways he could start the inevitable conversation with Ayden.

He didn't know how he was going to start the dreaded conversation—or exactly what he was going to say—all he knew was that it needed to be done. He needed to end things with Ayden. Now. Tonight. Fuck, three weeks ago.

He pulled his phone out from his back pocket to check the time, seeing that it was already nearing nine o'clock. Even if traffic was horrible, Ayden should have been home from work two hours ago.

He sighed and opened his contacts. Up until three weeks ago, Ayden had been in his phone under the nickname babe. Now, he was just listed as Ayden. Ian couldn't really pinpoint when he had changed it. Perhaps things had been changing a lot longer than Ian even realized.

He pressed the call button and swallowed thickly as he listened to the ringing on the other end. Finally, after the fifth ring, Ayden picked up.

"Yeah?"

"Where the hell are you?" Ian asked, deciding to skip the pleasantries.

"I'm still at the office," Ayden said hoarsely.

"Oh, really? A phone call would have been nice," Ian snapped.

"Are you kidding me right now? You really want to get on me about not calling to check in, when you've done it to me at least three times this past week?"

"Well, when are you coming home? I really need to talk to you about something. It's important," Ian asked impatiently, wanting to get this done and over with as quickly and as painlessly as possible.

"I can't answer that," Ayden replied. "I might be pulling an all-nighter. After losing that account the other day, I really have to step my game up. I'm working on something new—something big—and I have a lot of brainstorming I need to do. Gary and Ben are staying with me so I can bounce some ideas off of them."

Ian sighed heavily into the receiver.

"We'll talk tomorrow, alright?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow," Ian said stiffly, running a hand down his face. He hung up the phone before Ayden could say anything else.

He tossed his phone carelessly onto the kitchen counter and then walked over to the plush couch. He sank down into the cushions, rested his head back, and buried his face in his hands. He'd have to wait at least another twelve hours until he could officially end things with Ayden.

Twelve more hours, and then he and Mickey could finally get their chance at an actual relationship. No more guilt, no more sneaking around, no more secrets.

What Ian didn't know was that Ayden was purposely staying the night at the office, keeping his distance until Mickey had a chance to break things off. If things went according to the way Ayden wanted them to—by the time he got home tomorrow—Ian was going to be welcoming him home with open arms.

* * *

Despite being completely fucking exhausted and high on whatever the fuck meds he was on, Mickey hadn't slept at all the night before; his conversation with Ayden resonating miserably in his head.

He had gone back and forth a few dozen times and, in the end, he knew what he had to do. He had to protect Mandy and her business, and he had to let Ian go. He couldn't be stubborn, not when it concerned the two people in his life he cared about the most.

Ian deserved to be with someone who could actually give him the things he deserved in life. He deserved someone who could provide him stability and safety; someone with the means to take care of him.

The last thing he wanted to do was see Ian end up with Ayden, but he figured that Ian had been happy with the guy up until a few months ago, so he couldn't really be all that bad, could he? At least, that's what Mickey kept telling himself…

True to his word, Ian showed up bright and early at seven AM, right at the start of visiting hours.

Mickey found that he couldn't even look Ian in the eye. He didn't even want to look Ian in the eye, knowing he would go back on his decision instantly. He had to make this as quick and as painless as possible.

"Hey, hot stuff. I brought blueberry pie. I finally used that punch card for free pie that you gave me for my birthday," Ian said with a sweet smile as he placed the takeout bag down on the bedside table. He then turned to regard Mickey, his eyes sweeping over Mickey's battered face and Ian's smile faded.

"Thanks," Mickey said, his voice thick, his attention still focused up at the Today Show playing on the TV.

"How you feeling?" Ian asked as he walked closer to stand next to the bed.

"Been fucking better," Mickey answered back, trying to keep his tone steady. He really wished Mandy was there to act as a buffer, but he knew she had some important shit to take care of at her office first.

Before Mickey could fully grasp what was happening, Ian reached out and gingerly cupped the side of his face, gently forcing Mickey to turn his head and look up at him.

"I'm so fucking sorry this happened to you, Mick," Ian said once their eyes locked, his thumb caressing Mickey's cheekbone gently.

Mickey swallowed the thick lump in his throat and blinked back his tears as he stared up into Ian's eyes, unable to look away once he was finally looking at him.

"Shit happens," Mickey croaked.

Ian removed his hand from Mickey's face and paced stiffly to the other side of the room, his hands in his hair. "No," he said before spinning back around to face Mickey. "No, fuck that! That's not all you get to say about this. What those guys did to you…you didn't fucking deserve that!"

"It's not a big deal. I was at the wrong fucking place at the wrong time—"

"Fuck that!" Ian exclaimed again. He then paced back over to Mickey. "Why aren't you more upset about this? Mandy told me what you said. She told me you're not filing a report, that you're just letting it drop."

"I am fucking letting it drop, and so the fuck are you," Mickey said stiffly. "I don't want or need the attention or headache right now. I got my ass kicked by a couple of guys. I fought back, I lost, that's the fucking end of it. And you really think the police are going to care about some random fag getting the shit kicked out of him?"

"Mick—"

"I said fucking drop it, Ian! Let it the fuck go."

Ian stared back at him, his expression hard. "At least get mad about it. Yell, cry, hit something…fuck! Hit me if it'll make you feel better! You can't just hold it all in."

Mickey scoffed and looked away.

"Fuck, Mickey, you can't just—"

"You want me to get mad?" Mickey yelled, taking both himself and Ian by surprise with his sharp tone. "You want me to cry and curse the world for being so fucking unfair to us faggots? You want me to go march in a fucking gay pride parade somewhere chanting why me, let me be, huh?"

"Don't fucking joke about this," Ian said bitingly. "It's not funny, asshole."

"Yeah, well…maybe I had it coming."

"Had it com—what are you even saying right now? Are you even listening to yourself?"

"Look, Gallagher, just get the fuck out. I don't need this bullshit from you right now. I have enough shit to deal with."

Ian stared down at Mickey, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "So, I'm just Gallagher now? You're pissed off at me for giving a shit, but you won't show one fucking ounce of emotion over a bunch of guys who bashed your face in for being gay?"

"Just get the fuck out!" Mickey yelled again, his emotions running rampant, figuring it was as good a time as any to break things off with Ian. "Go! Leave!"

"You're a goddamn idiot if you think I'm leaving this room right now," Ian said sternly, crossing his arms.

"Fuck you, man."

"No, fuck you, Mickey!" Ian yelled before striding over to him. Without bothering to ask permission, he climbed into the small hospital bed with Mickey and wrapped an arm around him.

"Get the fuck off of me, Gallagher," Mickey said as he tried to push Ian off with his good arm as best he could given how weak and sore he was.

But Ian wasn't budging. He pressed closer and wrapped his arm tighter around Mickey's midsection. He pressed a kiss against Mickey's temple and cupped the side of his bruised face. "Shut up," he whispered.

"Just fucking go," Mickey snapped again, but Mickey's attempts to push Ian off became weaker and his voice grew softer. Before Mickey even knew what was happening, he felt thick, hot, bitter tears rolling down his cheeks.

"You didn't deserve that," Ian murmured against Mickey's temple. "You hear me? You didn't fuckin' deserve that. I don't care what your dad said to you growing up, you didn't deserve it. You're the last person on this fucking planet who deserved it."

Mickey reached up and grabbed desperately at Ian's forearm and squeezed his eyes shut, everything he had been bottling up finally spilling to the surface.

Ian kissed Mickey's temple repeatedly—with soft, dry pecks—before nuzzling his nose into Mickey's hair. "I'm not leaving," he muttered. "You'll have to drag my ass out of this room yourself."

"Like hell I could drag your tall, big ass anywhere," Mickey mumbled back hoarsely.

Ian smiled against Mickey's cheek. "Easy there, Little Bit."

"You're fucking stubborn as all hell, you know that?"

"Says the guy who won't press charges against the guys who beat the shit out of him," Ian murmured as he dug his face against Mickey's neck.

"Just drop it, Ian," Mickey said tiredly. "Please. You got me to fucking cry over it, that's enough. I just want to fuckin' forget about it and move the fuck on."

Ian finally nodded against Mickey's neck, and then sighed contentedly when Mickey eventually wrapped his good arm around him. "'m tired. Didn't sleep all night. Kept thinking 'bout what happened to you."

Mickey stared blankly up at the ceiling through bleary eyes. He listened as Ian's breathing eventually evened out, and felt Ian's body grow softer against him. He knew the last thing he should do right then was allow Ian to fall asleep in his arms, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment.

He pressed a lingering kiss to Ian's forehead and closed his eyes.

Minutes later—after a night of absolute restlessness—he finally fell asleep, if only because he was safe and warm in Ian's arms.

* * *

Ian blinked his eyes open a couple hours later, and it took him a handful of seconds to remember where he was and who he was snuggled up against. He lifted his head and studied Mickey's sleeping face.

He eyed the cuts, scrapes, and bruises, anger coursing through him. He reached a hand up and delicately touched Mickey's split lip with his fingertips. He blinked back tears as the severity of the situation fully hit him like a punch to the chest.

Mickey had been fag bashed. Mickey had been beaten to a bloody pulp and left for dead on a dirty sidewalk, simply for being with another man. For being with him.

Ian's heart swelled in his chest and he brushed a kiss against Mickey's cheek as he continued to fight back his tears.

Mickey finally began to stir and slowly opened his eyes. Before he could react or say anything, Ian leaned up and pressed his lips gently against Mickey's.

Ian felt the other man stiffen beneath him, and then he groaned when Mickey reached a hand up and carded his fingers through Ian's hair. He cautiously slung his leg over Mickey's—being careful not to hurt him—and pressed closer as the kiss gradually deepened.

"Ever make out in a hospital bed before?" Ian asked huskily as he reached down and palmed Mickey through his hospital gown. He could see Mickey swallow and he smiled, liking the fact that he could make Mickey nervous.

"No," Mickey rasped, "but I guess there's a first time for everything, huh?"

"Seeing you in this hospital gown really gets me going. Is it the kind that's open in the back?"

"Yeah," Mickey rasped.

"Easy access, then. So fuckin' hot," Ian murmured as he leaned in and rubbed the tip of his nose against Mickey's before dropping another kiss to Mickey's lips. He pressed his tongue to the crease of Mickey's lips, and then eagerly slid his tongue against Mickey's when he opened up for him.

Mickey was gasping into the kiss as Ian continued to palm him. He knew if he didn't stop things now, they'd be fucking on the hospital bed in minutes. "Wait. Ian, stop."

"Don't want to," Ian murmured.

"Too fucking bad."

Ian pulled away from the kiss with a sigh, pressing his face into Mickey's chest. When he lifted his head, he found Mickey watching him with a small frown. "Is this about Ayden?" He sat up on an elbow. "I wanted to break it off with him last night, but he stayed at his office all night so I couldn't."

Mickey didn't say anything, just closed his eyes and shifted a little as if trying to get comfortable.

"I'm going to do it today," Ian declared. "I meant what I said, Mickey. I want to be with you. I like who I am when I'm with you."

"Ian—" Mickey began, but then nothing else followed.

"We don't have to talk about this right now, okay?" Ian said after a short pause, kissing the tip of Mickey's nose before crawling off the bed. "You want some pie? It's probably still warm."

Just then, the door opened and Mandy came walking in. "Hey," she said breathlessly, her eyes flickering between Ian and Mickey. She set the card and fruit basket she had with her down on the bedside table.

"The fuck's that? A fruit basket? Really? Is that supposed to be funny?"

"That's from Emily, she thought you could use the laugh. She's going to stop by later to see you." She bent down to kiss her brother on the forehead before looking down the length of his body. "So, how are you feel—oh, what the fuck! Gross!" she exclaimed, scrunching up her face and looking away. "Why do you have a fucking boner right now, Jesus!"

Ian coughed a laugh into his fist and then held his hands up, feigning innocence when Mandy fixed him with a pointed glare. "Hey, don't look at me. I was just getting pie."

Mandy only smirked and tossed a pillow over her brother's lap. "Fucking pervs."

Ian chuckled and scratched at the back of his neck. "I'm gonna go to the cafeteria to grab us some coffee. I'll give you two a minute." He bent down to plant a kiss on Mickey's forehead before leaving the room.

Once Ian was gone, Mandy turned and regarded her brother with a sad look. "So, how're you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a fucking truck," Mickey grumbled, speaking both physically and emotionally.

"Not to sound insensitive, but you look like absolute shit."

"Still look better than you."

"You wish, asshole."

Mickey chuckled dryly and glanced back at the TV.

Mandy stepped closer and rubbed a hand over Mickey's hair. "Mick—"

"Don't, Mands," Mickey warned. "I already had to deal with Ian's bullshit about this whole thing, I don't need to hear it from you, too."

"I just don't want you to think that this is your fault; that you deserved this. You didn't. You did nothing wrong. There's nothing wrong with standing on the sidewalk, having an argument with your boyfriend." On Mickey's sigh, she continued. "You've just come a long way, and I don't want you to retract—"

"I'm fine, alright?" Mickey said, cutting her off. He ran a hand over his face, wincing when he felt pain, having forgotten that his face was littered with cuts and bruises.

Mandy sat down in the chair next to the bed and watched him as he slowly became unraveled.

Mickey blinked back the tears. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of his fucking sister. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath before saying, "Ayden was here last night."

"Ayden? As in Ian's Ayden?"

"No, fucking Aidan from Sex and The City," Mickey snapped irritably. "Yes, Ian's Ayden."

"The hell was he doing here?"

Mickey's eyes averted towards the door, making sure that Ian was nowhere in sight before looking back at his sister. "He knows about me and Ian. I'm not sure how he knows. Ian hasn't told him yet, but he knows."

"Fuck," Mandy breathed. "What happened? What'd he say?"

"He basically blackmailed me into breaking things off, offered me money."

Mandy scrunched up her face and blew out an exasperated puff of air. "Fuck him. You know, at first I was totally against you and Ian sneaking around behind his back, but I can't believe that fucker had the nerve to come here and threaten you like that after what happened to you. You told him to fuck off, right? Of course you did."

Mickey just gnawed on his lower lip and looked down at his hands.

Mandy eyed him warily. "You told him to fuck off, right? You're seriously not thinking about ending things with Ian, are you?" When Mickey didn't say anything, she continued. "Mick, Ian really fucking cares about you. You should have seen his face last night when he got here. He was fucking wrecked."

"I have to let him go," Mickey said numbly.

"What the fuck are you even saying right now? For two months, you chased after him, and now that he's willing to actually leave his fiancé for you, you're just going to break things off? That's pretty fucked up, even for you."

"There's shit you don't know about, alright?" Mickey snapped. "Shit about Ian's health and…just don't fucking worry about it. It's got fuck all to do with you anyway."

"Fuck you, asshole," Mandy spat. "I'm the one who sat there and watched you pine and sulk over this fucking guy, and now you're just going to give up because some fucking toolbag threatened you and offered you some cash?"

"Mandy," Mickey warned.

Ian picked that exact moment to return. He was juggling three cups of coffee and had a newspaper tucked under one arm and a Snickers bar hanging from his clenched teeth.

Mandy stood up. "I have to go," she said unsteadily. "I have something I need to take care of at the office." She patted Ian on the shoulder and shot Mickey a dark look before leaving.

After Ian placed everything he was carrying down, he frowned, looking back towards the door. "She okay?"

"Yeah," Mickey answered dryly. "She just doesn't like seeing me like this, I guess."

Ian gave him a small, sympathetic smile before motioning towards the Snickers bar he'd purchased. "I remember you telling me those were your favorite candy, so I picked you up one," he said.

"Yeah, thanks," Mickey mumbled, still smarting from his conversation with Mandy.

Ian toed off his shoes and climbed back into the small bed, instantly draping his arm and leg over Mickey, resuming his previous position. He nuzzled his face into the crook of Mickey's neck. "You smell good."

"The fuck? You are aware that you're like seven feet fucking tall, and you're taking up the whole goddamn bed, right? Fucking giant, lanky bastard," Mickey murmured, even though he didn't mind all that much.

Ian hummed and nuzzled even closer. "Okay, so…Snickers are your favorite candy, fuck is obviously your favorite word, and insulting me is your favorite pastime. What else do I get to learn about you?"

Mickey closed his eyes, wishing Ian would stop making it harder on him. "What else do you wanna know?"

"Everything," Ian said, lifting his head and looking into Mickey's eyes. "I want to know everything about you. I want to start fresh with you and really get to know each other. I wanna go on dates and take things slow and do shit right."

Mickey swallowed thickly. He wanted that shit, too, so fucking much, but he knew it couldn't happen. "Ian."

"I think I'm falling in love with you, Mick," Ian said, cutting him off. When Mickey just stared at him blankly, he continued. "It's fucking crazy, I know. But like I said…I like who I am when I'm with you. I don't have to pretend to be someone I'm not. I like how you look at me, and how you make me feel. You make me laugh, even when you don't mean to. And your grumpiness? Fucking cute as hell."

Mickey remained silent and watched as Ian grinned, having no clue about Mickey's internal struggle. "Ian, listen—"

"You don't have to say anything right now," Ian said, once again cutting Mickey off. "We'll talk later. Just get some sleep, okay?"

Mickey opened his mouth to respond, but found that he once again couldn't find the words. He closed his eyes and allowed Ian to wrap around him.

He knew that he was eventually going to have to end things—and soon—but right then, he just wanted to keep lying in the comfort and warmth of Ian's arms, listening to his steady breathing.

Mickey loved Ian, too. He wasn't sure about much of anything, but that much he was absolutely sure of. He wanted to say it back more than anything. He wanted to just say fuck Ayden and everyone else, and start a life with the guy. But he knew he couldn't. Because as much as Mickey loved Ian, he knew it would never be enough. What he had to offer Ian would never be enough.

The sooner he let go, the better.

Still, his eyes drooped and he fell asleep, allowing himself to enjoy the way things were for just a little while longer.


	17. Love is a Losing Game

"Excuse me, sir."

"Go the fuck away…I'm sleepin'," Ian grumbled without even bothering to open his eyes. He didn't know who the hell was attempting to wake him up, and he didn't really give a shit. There was no way in hell he was getting up from that spot. He couldn't remember a time when he had felt that comfortable, that content and safe.

"Sir, can you just unlatch yourself for one second?" the soft voice asked. "I have to check on your friend here."

Slowly, Ian blinked his bleary eyes open, and his blurred vision slowly focused on the stout nurse standing above him. He was suddenly wide awake and he lifted his head from Mickey's chest. "Oh, sorry," he mumbled as he reluctantly sat up and climbed off the small hospital bed.

"It's okay," the nurse said, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Are the two of you together?"

If Ian wasn't so damn blunt and tactless about everything himself, he would have said she was overstepping some sort of line by asking the personal question. He ran a hand through his hair, and watched as she looked over Mickey's chart and checked his vitals.

"No, but I'm hoping to be. We're working on it. It's…complicated." Ian knew that that was the understatement of the fucking year. He also knew that he was definitely oversharing, so he left it at that.

The nurse smiled again as she checked over Mickey's arm cast. "Well, everything looks good." Before turning to leave, she said, "The lunch cart will be coming around soon. I'll make sure they add an extra tray for you."

Ian grinned and nodded his thanks. Once she was gone, he sighed heavily and pulled his phone out from his back pocket. There was no word from Ayden—not even a text message—which Ian thought was weird, but he decided not to dwell on it. He then considered just calling Ayden to see what time he'd be home from work later so they could finally have their talk. It was long overdue.

Before he could even hit the call button, Mickey was beginning to stir from his nap.

Ian grinned when he met Mickey's sleepy stare with his own. "Hey." He watched as Mickey ran a hand over his stubbly face, and then struggled to sit up a little against his pillows. "Do you have any fucking idea how adorable you look when you first wake up?"

"Whatever, man," Mickey snipped, even though he blushed as he said it.

Ian smiled again. He couldn't seem to wipe the stupid smile from his face. He knew he probably looked like an idiot. He walked over to the bed and was about to climb back in, intent on kissing the heck out of the other man, but Mickey stopped him.

"Ian."

"Right…sorry," Ian said with a sigh, taking a step back and running a hand through his unruly hair. "I should probably get going, anyway, wait for Ayden to come home so I can get this over with." He walked over to Mickey and bent down to kiss him softly on the lips. "I'll be back later, alright?" he mumbled against Mickey's lips. He then pressed a lingering kiss to Mickey's forehead before turning to head towards the door.

"Fuck…wait. Ian," Mickey called out, his tone uneven. "We need to talk."

The tone of Mickey's voice caused Ian to stop dead in his tracks. He turned to look over his shoulder with his hand on the doorknob to find Mickey watching him with a despondent expression.

Ian didn't know what Mickey was about to say, but he had a feeling it wasn't going to be anything good. "Mick—"

"Let me talk first, alright?" Mickey said, his voice cracking. "I need to say this." He visibly swallowed a few times before saying, "I don't think we should—"

"Don't do this," Ian interrupted, his voice shallow. "Whatever you're about to say, don't say it. I know this is a really fucked up situation, and I know it's a lot to deal with, but I want this, okay? I really fucking do. You don't have to be worried or scared that I'm going to take it back. I'm not going to take it back. Whatever you're afraid of, whatever you think is going to go wrong, we'll work through it together."

"Ian, it's not—"

"No, Mickey. I'm not letting you do this," Ian interrupted flatly. "We barely even got a chance, I'm not letting you take it back because you're scared."

"Ian, let me fucking—"

"I'm going to go break things off with Ayden, and then I'll be back later," Ian declared sternly, turning to face the door once again. Mickey's next words completely broke his resolve.

"Fuck, Ian, it's over, alright? It's done."

* * *

Mickey watched with bated breath and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as Ian froze with his hand on the doorknob. He then watched as Ian hung his head, his shoulders slumping. He had to force the next words out of his mouth. "You can't…fuck…you can't break up with Ayden."

Finally, Ian turned around and looked at him, his eyes wet and red-rimmed. "Are you fucking kidding me right now? This is a joke, right."

Mickey swallowed thickly, wishing he could take the words back as soon as they left his mouth. He wished they could go back to just five minutes before, back when Ian was sleeping peacefully and perfectly in his arms. "It has to be over."

"No," Ian said flatly with a firm shake of his head. "No, it's not fucking over, Mickey. I'm not letting you do this. I didn't…we didn't do all of this for nothing! These past couple months haven't been for nothing. You're just scared. Fuck…I'm scared, too, but we'll get through this. We can get through this."

"No, we can't."

"Don't do this," Ian pleaded. "Please. For the first time in a really long time, I feel good…I feel fucking good, Mickey, and it's because of you."

"I—"

"I'm leaving my fucking fiancé for you!" Ian finally shouted. "I'm about to walk out that fucking door and stop my goddamn wedding for you, and you want to tell me now that you change your mind?"

Mickey ran a hand down his face, forcing back his own emotions. He had to maintain a straight face; had to appear unbroken. He had to make Ian believe it. It was the only way he knew that Ian would walk away. "I'm sorry," he said softly, refusing to look Ian in the eyes. It hurt too much to look at him.

"You're sorry?" Ian asked with a sarcastic chortle. "You're fucking sorry? Fuck you, Mickey!"

Mickey finally locked eyes with him. "Look. It was…it was fun while it lasted, but it was never real. At least…at least not for me."

Ian drew his lips in a tight line and tilted his chin upwards as he allowed Mickey's words to register. "It wasn't real for you?"

Mickey fought back his own emotions as he stared back at Ian's completely devastated expression.

"What changed?" Ian finally asked after a long, uncomfortable pause. "What fucking changed? Days ago you were telling me that I was all you think about. You told me you wanted to be with me, that you wanted me to leave Ayden for you. That thinking about me with Ayden made you sick to your stomach. What fucking changed, Mickey! Is it because you got bashed?" Ian's face suddenly softened, and he sucked back a sob before taking a step closer. "If this is because of you getting bashed, we can deal with—"

"It's not because I got bashed," Mickey said tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger to stop his own tears.

"Mickey—"

"Look, I don't fucking want you! It was just sex to me!" Mickey finally exclaimed. He knew Ian was stubborn, and he knew he had to make Ian hate him, even if it meant saying things he didn't mean. "Just go, alright! Go back to Ayden and move the fuck on! You're better off that way!"

"No, I'm not better off that way. I want—"

"Just get the fuck out!" Mickey shouted. "Go!"

Ian stared blankly at him, his whole body rigid, his jaw taut. Without another word, he turned and left the room.

Mickey chewed on his lower lip and looked around the room through bleary eyes. "Fuck!" he yelled before sweeping his good arm out and knocking the fruit basket, flowers, and cards that covered his bedside table to the floor.

* * *

Ian was all cried out.

On the whole L ride home, he sat in the back of the train car staring unseeingly out of the window. Only when he got inside the privacy of the penthouse did he slide down the length of the door to the floor and bend his knees to his chest. He sobbed against his knees until he couldn't cry anymore. Now he was sitting numbly at the counter island, staring blankly at nothing while he waited for Ayden to get home from work.

After a long while—he wasn't exactly sure how long it was—he heard movement outside the door, and he straightened up in anticipation. He knew he probably looked like hell right then—with puffy, red-rimmed eyes—and he knew Ayden would undoubtedly ask questions. Ian had no fucking clue what he was going to say to him.

Ayden walked through the door and placed his briefcase down on the floor, not seeing Ian at first glance. He shrugged out of his coat and then finally looked up, freezing when he saw Ian watching him. "Hi."

"Hey," Ian said, his throat feeling raw from crying.

Ayden looked at him with narrowed eyes as he walked closer, undoubtedly taking in Ian's wrecked appearance. "Everything okay?"

Ian bit his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. He didn't even bother nodding.

"What's going on?" Ayden asked once he was standing only a foot away from him. "You okay?" He reached a hand out and caressed Ian's cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"I don't…I don't fucking know," Ian choked out. Before he could process what was happening, Ayden was pulling him in for a tight embrace. "Everything is just…just so fucked up right now," he sobbed against Ayden's shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get lost in Ayden's embrace, wishing it would take the sharp ache in his chest away, but it only made it worse.

"What happened?" Ayden muttered into Ian's hair as he stroked his back.

After a long pause, Ian sniffed and pulled away, avoiding Ayden's eyes. He swiped at his damp cheeks. "We need to talk."

Ayden nodded and grabbed Ian by the arm, leading him over to the couch. Once they were seated, he reached over and brushed one of Ian's tears away with his thumb. "What is it?"

Ian looked at him, wondering why Ayden seemed to be so caring and attentive all of a sudden. Something seemed off with him, but Ian couldn't put his finger on what. He looked down at his hands and took a couple deep breaths before saying, "I think we should call off the wedding." He watched from the corner of his eye as Ayden's whole body stiffened.

"What?" Ayden asked after a heavy pause. "What do you mean you want to call off the wedding? It's a week away! Do you know how much money I poured into this goddamn wedding?"

Ian ran his hands over his face and sat forward. He then braced his elbows on his knees and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I at least want to postpone it then," he finally said. He then chanced a look at the other man, who looked anything but pleased. "I'm not ready to get married…not yet, and I don't think you are either."

Ayden's jaw stiffened as he regarded Ian with something close to disdain. "You decide now, a week before our wedding, that you're not ready? Isn't that something you should have thought about months ago?"

"No, I—" Ian began, trying to get his words right. "I thought I was ready. I really did. I think I was just telling myself that I wanted this. I wanted to make you happy and—"

Ayden laughed sardonically and then stood up. He began pacing the wide living room. "You wanted to make me happy," he mumbled dryly. "I can't fucking believe this."

Ian slumped back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes. He forced back another onslaught of tears.

"So, what," Ayden then spat as he turned around to face Ian. "Does this mean we're over?"

"I…I don't know," Ian mumbled. "I don't know what the fuck it means, okay! I'm fucking…I'm confused and I just need some time to figure shit out. I'm not trying to hurt you! I just need to take a couple steps back and think about some things, get my mind right."

"Is this about the fucking wedding planner?"

"What?" Ian asked, completely taken off guard by the question.

Ayden chuckled dryly and then walked over to look out the large window.

Ian watched him, his breathing shallow and his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

"I know about the two of you," Ayden finally said, his voice cold. He then turned and looked at Ian glaringly. "I know you've been fucking the wedding planner behind my back, Ian."

"How?" Ian finally managed to spit out in a small voice. "How do you know?"

"It doesn't matter how I know," Ayden snapped. In the next instant, his whole demeanor changed. He walked over to Ian and sat back down next to him. He reached out a hand and cupped Ian's cheek. "It doesn't matter to me, Ian. I love you. And I get why you did it. I was furious and hurt when I found out, but I know why you did it. I didn't pay enough attention to you, I wasn't there enough."

Ian swallowed the thick lump in his throat as he stared back at Ayden, wondering in the back of his mind why the other man was being so blasé about the whole situation. The Ayden he knew, the man he was used to, would have flipped his fucking lid at finding out that Ian had cheated. Something was most definitely off.

"We can postpone the wedding, if that's what you want," Ayden said with a resigned sigh. "We'll put it off for a few months. We'll take some time to reconnect and get back what we used to have, and then we'll go from there. All I know is that I don't want to lose you, Ian. Not to some fucking guy you found off the street to plan our wedding."

Ian closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath when Ayden leaned in and kissed him softly on the forehead.

"Let's just move past this, okay?' Ayden muttered. "Let's move on and move forward."

Ian found himself nodding slightly, even though his heart was screaming something else.

"Don't go anywhere. I'm going to go take a shower," Ayden said as he pulled away. "Maybe we can order some of that Chinese food you like and watch a movie."

Ian nodded, still trying to wrap his head around everything.

Ayden tilted Ian's chin up until their eyes met. "Okay?"

Ian swallowed thickly and dumbly nodded.

Ayden leaned forward to place another kiss against Ian's forehead before standing up.

Ian forced a small, tight smile and watched as Ayden turned and headed towards the bathroom. The smile immediately slipped off his face once he was alone.

* * *

After dropping off a pie at the nurses' station to show her appreciation (since she knew her brother was a major pain in the ass), Mandy walked into her brother's hospital room to find Mickey lying in the bed watching TV, the room shrouded in darkness.

"Hey, jerk face," she greeted. "Why are you sitting in the dark, weirdo?" she asked as she flipped on the bedside lamp. "Mick?" She then stepped closer to the bed and her heart dropped when she saw his tear-stained face. "Fuck," she whispered. "What happened?"

"Just go the fuck away," Mickey grumbled.

"Mickey, tell me you didn't do it. Tell me you didn't break up with Ian."

Mickey swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Had to," he said simply, his voice low and gravelly. "It's better for him. Ian's better with…with him."

"No, Ian is not better with him. He's supposed to be with you," Mandy snapped. "Christ, Mickey—"

"He's sick," Mickey choked out, his wet eyes still focused up at the TV.

"What do you mean he's sick? Ian's sick? Sick how?"

"He has bipolar disorder."

Mandy slowly sat down in the chair next to the bed and ran a hand over her face. "Fuck," she mumbled. "That's like…that's like manic depression, isn't it?"

Mickey only nodded stiffly. "I can't even keep a goddamn house plant alive. I can't even remember to send my rent in on time half the fucking time. How the fuck was I supposed to be able to take care of him?"

Mandy reached over and took her brother's hand.

"That asshole can do for Ian what I can't."

"So, what? Ian doesn't even get a choice in this?" Mandy asked flatly. "You and Ayden just decided what was best for him…fuck what Ian thinks or wants, right?"

"This is what's best for him," Mickey said tiredly, rubbing a hand over his bruised face.

"You could've worked through it, Mickey, fuck! You could've come up with something together. That's what people in relationships do. They go through shit and they get through it together!"

"This isn't something to fuck around with!" Mickey yelled. "We weren't arguing over who had to take out the fucking trash! He's fucking sick, and he needs medication! He needs help!"

"So, you just give up on him? You don't even fight? The fuck is wrong with you? This isn't you."

Mickey dug his head deeper into his pillow and took a few deep breaths before speaking again. "He threatened you, too."

"What the fuck're you talking about? What do you mean he threatened me, too?"

"Ayden. He said if I didn't let Ian go, that he was going to fuck with your business."

"That stupid fucking son of a bitch!" Mandy exclaimed, her face reddening with anger.

Mickey closed his eyes. "Can we just not talk for right now?" he asked tiredly. "Please?"

"Yeah," Mandy said, even though the last thing she wanted to do in the moment was act calm. She reached up and pressed her palm to the top of Mickey's head and rubbed the pad of her thumb against his forehead. They usually weren't the most affectionate of siblings, but she knew her brother needed it right then. She watched as he bit his lower lip and rapidly blinked back tears.

* * *

Later that night, Ian and Ayden were sitting on the couch catching up on their Netflix shows. Ayden was casually munching on popcorn and laughing at all the jokes at all the right times. Ian sat there, sneaking furtive glances in Ayden's direction, wishing he could get lost in the show as easily as Ayden seemed to.

How could Ayden act so cool, calm, and collected after everything that had happened? After finding out that his fiancé had been fucking someone else?

Ian's phone vibrated in his pocket and he was silently thankful for the distraction. He looked at the screen to see that Mandy was calling. He frowned and then his chest immediately tightened, thinking that something was wrong with Mickey.

"Hey, I'm going to go in the other room and take this," Ian said as he stood up. "It's Fiona calling."

"Want me to pause it?"

"No, it'll only take a second," Ian said. "Just let me know if Crazy Eyes does any crazy shit."

"Hurry back," Ayden said, grabbing Ian's hip and smoothing his hand down around to grab his ass.

Ian forced a small smile before heading towards the bedroom. Once the door was closed, he let out a heavy sigh. He hit redial and impatiently waited for Mandy to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Ian. Is Mickey okay?" he asked, all in one breath.

"Yeah, he's okay," Mandy said. "He told me what happened…about the two of you breaking up."

Ian sat down on the end of the bed and ran a hand through his hair. "We weren't even technically together," he said bitterly.

"Yeah, well, he's really broken up about it."

"Funny," Ian said flatly. "It seemed like he couldn't fucking care less about me while he was ending it."

"You know that's not true," Mandy said. "He loves you, he does."

Ian let out a dry, unamused chortle. "Right."

"He does. He fucking loves you. He's my brother and I know him better than anyone. He loves you."

Ian swallowed thickly, not knowing what to say to that.

Mandy then sighed. "Just don't give up on him, alright? He's going through some rough shit right now, but I know he'll get his head right soon and—"

"Look, Mandy, unless he's hurt or something goes wrong, don't call me. Your brother ended it, it's done," Ian interrupted. "I have to go." Before she could argue or say anything more, he hung up.

On the other side of town, Mandy stared down at her phone, having half a mind to call him back up and chew him out for hanging up on her. She decided against it in the end. She then sighed. It had been on the tip of her tongue to just let it all out…to tell him exactly what Ayden had done, but she knew she would just be digging her brother in an even bigger hole. Ian would undoubtedly be furious to find out that Mickey had accepted the check. She just had to think of something else to get her brother and Ian back together.

For the first time in a long ass time, her brother had finally been happy. Like hell she was going to let some lying, manipulative douchebag with a major fucking stick up his ass ruin that.

* * *

A few days later, Ian was casually lounging on the couch, mindlessly playing a game on his phone. His game was interrupted when a phone call came through. He sighed when he saw that it was Mandy. He thought about just ignoring it, but curiosity got the better of him.

"What?" he said into the phone. This was the third time she had called him since his and Mickey's breakup. She wasn't even trying to be discreet about her reasons for calling.

"Hey," Mandy said. "Mickey's getting released today."

Ian gnawed on his bottom lip as the news registered. "Okay," he said simply, acting as if he couldn't care less.

"He's also thinking about filing a report and pressing charges on the dickheads who bashed him. He doubts they'll find them, but the fact that he even wants to try is big."

The corner of Ian's lip twitched upwards, but he didn't say anything.

"Just thought you'd want to know."

Ian sighed. "Mandy, stop," he said. "I don't know what you're expecting to happen here, but it's not going to happen. Your brother is the one who dumped me. He's the one who said it was never real for him," he voice cracked a little at the end, and he cleared his throat and pulled himself together. "Just let it go."

"Alright, I'll let you go," Mandy said, before adding, "I just hope you know that my brother is worth fighting for. Don't give up on him."

"What's the point in fighting for something that isn't meant to be claimed?" Ian asked sardonically. "Bye, Mandy." He stared down at his phone and blinked back his tears before sniffing and standing up. He had cried enough over the past few days.

He walked over to Ayden's desk and sat down in the swivel chair. He knew Ayden hated when he sat at his desk, but Ian wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind to care at the moment.

He grabbed a pen and began twirling it through his fingers. He then leaned forward and grabbed a sheet of paper and brought it towards himself. Wanting to keep his mind busy, he began drawing nonsensical doodles. He got bored with that fairly quickly and dropped the pen. As he cracked his knuckles, his eyes scanned over the contents of the desk and eventually settled on one piece of paper in particular.

He reached for the bank statement and looked over his shoulder, half-expecting to find Ayden standing behind him, even though he knew damn well he was at work.

Ian scanned over the bank statement. Even though Ian rarely ever dealt with the finances, he knew enough to know that everything looked fairly normal…the penthouse rent (which was ridiculous, in Ian's opinion), a few necessary bills, the two thousand dollars Ayden had dropped for a suit last week. He then frowned when something immediately caught his eye that didn't look right. There had been two withdrawals within a few days of each other…a withdrawal for five thousand dollars, and then another check written out two days later for twenty-five thousand.

What the fuck could Ayden have spent thirty thousand dollars on within a span of three days? And in what fucking world was it okay to spend thirty thousand dollars on something and not tell your fiancé?

Ian sat back in the chair, his eyebrows furrowing.

For the past few days, Ayden had been acting weird; acting more loving and affectionate than usual. Something was off with him, and Ian had a sneaking suspicion that the money had something to do with it.

Ayden was definitely hiding something from him, there was no doubt in his mind now, and Ian had every intention on finding out exactly what that something was.


	18. Blurry

When Ayden walked in the door from work that night, he found Ian standing outside on the small terrace off of the living room. He placed his briefcase down and shrugged out of his suit jacket before making his way out to him.

"Hey, I was thinking about ordering Indian food for dinner tonight…maybe some chicken makhani," Ayden said as he unbuttoned the sleeves of his shirt, and began rolling them up to his elbows to get comfortable. "Maybe watch a movie?"

Ian didn't say anything, didn't even move. He just stood with his back facing Ayden as he stared out at the Chicago skyline that was illuminated by the setting sun.

"Are you smoking, Ian? When did you start smoking again?"

"Decided to pick the habit back up," Ian said stiffly before taking a long drag just to spite him.

Ayden heaved a deep, disapproving sigh and moved to stand behind Ian. He brought his hands up and began massaging Ian's stiff shoulders. "I wish you wouldn't smoke. It's a nasty habit and I hate the way it smells."

Ian remained silent and kept smoking his cigarette.

"Did you call any of the vendors to cancel?" Ayden asked as he leaned in and softly brushed his lips against the nape of Ian's neck. "We need to do that as soon as possible. Doubt we'll get any of our deposits back with such short notice."

Ian stiffened under Ayden's touch and then turned around. He blew his smoke right in Ayden's face as he regarded him coldly.

"What the hell, Ian," Ayden snapped, coughing and waving the smoke away from his face. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"You want to tell me what you spent thirty thousand dollars on in the past week?" Ian asked flatly as he took another slow drag of his cigarette.

Ayden stared back at him, his expression gradually hardening. Finally, he said, "I'm assuming you've been snooping through my desk."

"Don't change the fucking subject," Ian snipped. "Don't make this about me. This isn't about me snooping through your shit. This is about you keeping the fact that you spent thirty thousand dollars on who the fuck knows what, and didn't even fucking think to mention it to me."

Ayden stared at him and then let out a wry laugh. He ran a hand down his face and then turned his back on Ian to go back inside the penthouse.

"Don't fucking walk away from me," Ian snapped, throwing his cigarette over the balcony before following him inside.

"I'm not doing this with you, Ian."

"Why the fuck not?"

Ayden spun around abruptly. "Because it's none of your goddamn business!"

Ian recoiled a little at Ayden's dark tone and his jaw stiffened. "It's none of my business? It's none of my fucking business? I'm your fiancé!"

Ayden let out another dry chuckle at that. "Some fiancé."

Ian frowned.

"It stopped being your business when you went out and decided to fuck our wedding planner behind my back, so you don't get to play the fiancé card with me," Ayden exclaimed. "I know what this is. You feel guilty. You feel like a piece of shit for what you've done, so you're trying to drag me down with you. Trying to even the score."

Ian laughed dryly and ran a hand over his mouth. "I'm not trying to even anything! I know I fucked up! Trust me, I know I'll be paying for this for the rest of my goddamn life!" He then eyed Ayden warily. "Why won't you just answer the question? What's the big fucking secret?"

"You're the only one keeping secrets," Ayden snapped as he moved to brush past him. "I'm ending this conversation right now. I'm going to take a shower."

Ian reached out and grabbed Ayden's arm to stop him, and was immediately shocked when Ayden spun around, pressed a hand to his chest, and slammed Ian hard back against the wall, completely forcing the breath out of Ian.

"I said drop it, Ian," Ayden warned, his face mere inches from Ian's face.

"I'm not dropping it," Ian snapped, unperturbed by Ayden's anger. He grabbed Ayden's wrist to pull his hand away from his chest. They were both high on adrenaline and shaking with anger by that point. "I want to know what the fuck you've been—" Before Ian could even get the words out, Ayden grabbed him hard by the biceps and slammed him against the wall again, and before Ian knew what was happening, Ayden's hand smacked hard against his cheek, the edge of the band of Ayden's Rolex leaving a scratch along Ian's cheek.

"I said to drop it!" Ayden exclaimed before finally letting go of a stunned Ian and turning to pace to the other side of the living area.

Ian stood slumped back against the wall as he held his stinging cheek, his red-rimmed eyes staring at Ayden's back.

Ayden ran a hand through his hair and then stiffly turned back around to glare at Ian. "Why do you always have to push me so hard, Ian? Why is everything always so goddamned complicated with you?" he snarled. "You cheated on me, you lied to me, I decide to stick with you and make things work. You're the one in the wrong here, not me. Whatever I spent that money on—right now—you have no right knowing. Don't ask me about it again." And with that, Ayden walked down the small hallway towards the master bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

Ian remained frozen against the wall, still in shock as his eyes brimmed with tears. He rested his head back and let out a puff of strangled breath, his mind still trying to catch up with what just happened.

Ayden had never put his hands on him before. Ever. As angry as Ian was about being hit, he couldn't help but feel as if maybe Ayden had a good reason to. He was right. Ian had cheated. Ian had lied. Ian had pushed and pushed Ayden past his limit.

He ran a shaky hand down his face, and then finally moved away from the wall, knowing he had to get out of that penthouse before his anger got the best of him and he did something he would regret. He grabbed his duffel bag by the door and headed out, deciding to start his shift at the club early, needing the distraction.

* * *

Mandy stood over Mickey, who was lying on the couch in a sea of pillows and blankets. "You sure you're comfortable? Anything else I can get you? I can make you some fish sticks? It's all we have…haven't gotten around to going grocery shopping."

"Will you quit hovering over me, bitch face?" Mickey snipped. "Jesus Christ, it's just a broken arm and a few broken ribs, you act like I'm fucking dying. I've gotten worse from dad in the past, I'll live."

Mandy rolled her eyes before turning and heading towards the kitchen. "Sorry I give a shit, asshole."

Mickey sighed and ran a hand over his stubbly face. He wanted to tell her that he was the one that was sorry. For the past couple of days—since getting out of the hospital—all he'd done was mope around and snap at her anytime she tried to help. It all boiled down to him not liking people taking care of him…and the simple fact that he wished it was someone else here taking care of him.

His mind never left Ian. He had thought (hoped) that after a couple days, it would start to hurt less not having Ian around, but if anything it only hurt more.

He swallowed the thick lump in his throat and willed his mind to think about something else; anything else. He couldn't dwell on thoughts of Ian for too long. He had to move on. He had done what was best for Ian, and he had to keep reminding himself of that.

"So, what are you doing tonight?" Mickey asked as he shifted against the pillows that Mandy had propped behind him. "I know your ass isn't staying home tonight and bugging the shit out of me, so you better be doing something."

Mandy shrugged as she began spreading fish sticks onto a baking tray. "I don't know. I was thinking of going to visit an old friend."

"Good," Mickey said. "Just pop in one of my Criminal Minds DVDs and I'll be good to go."

* * *

Ian was four hours into his shift at the club and—thanks to the gaggle of rowdy and talkative customers he had served so far—his mind was staying pretty distracted. Until Mandy Milkovich stood in front of him. "Mandy…hey," he said, trying to keep his voice as friendly as possible.

"Hey," Mandy said as she slipped onto a stool.

"What, uh, what are you doing here?" Ian asked, already having an idea.

"Just thought I'd see where you work," Mandy said as she looked around. "It seems pretty gay around here, no wonder my brother likes it so much."

At the mention of Mickey, whatever small bit of a good mood Ian had deteriorated. "What can I get for you?" he asked, deciding to keep this conversation strictly professional and far away from Mickey.

"Captain and diet coke with lime."

Ian nodded curtly and went to work making her drink. As soon as he placed it in front of her, he stiffened at the next words that left her mouth.

"You should go see Mickey. I think he'd like that."

Ian chuckled dryly. "Right."

"Ian, he loves—"

"Yeah, he loves me. You've told me that about a dozen times. Told me to fight for him, to not give up on him," Ian interrupted flatly. "But see, he's the one who dumped me, he's the one who looked me in the eye and told me it was just sex and that none of it was real. Why the fuck would I fight for that?"

"Do you love him?" Mandy asked, catching him completely off guard with the question.

Ian didn't answer, just kept wiping at the beer mug in his hand.

"That's why," Mandy said after a drawn out pause.

"Yeah, well," Ian began, his voice shaking slightly. "It doesn't matter how I feel about him. I'm not fighting for someone who doesn't even want me. I get it. I get that he's your brother and that you're on his side, but just drop it. It's over."

Just as Ian was about to walk away to help another patron, Mandy's question had him freezing in his steps.

"What happened to your face?"

"I got into a fight…happens around here," Ian said stiffly and then walked away, abruptly ending the conversation.

* * *

Mickey jolted awake when he heard the front door slam shut. "The fuck!"

Mandy walked over to the couch and sat down on the coffee table directly in front of him.

Mickey relaxed back against his pillows as he eyed his sister disdainfully. "Can't a guy fucking sleep around here?"

"I went to see Ian," Mandy said, cutting right to the point.

Mickey felt wide awake at that bit of information. "The fuck do you mean you went to see Ian? Why the fuck did you go to see Ian? I thought I told you to stay the fuck out of it."

"I went to the club he works at," Mandy explained, "to tell him not to give up on you and to give you time."

"Jesus Christ, Mandy," Mickey murmured, rubbing at his eyes. "Why the fuck did you do that? Why can't you just let shit go?"

"Because it's bullshit, that's why! You're in love with him, idiot. Look at you! Ever since you broke up with the guy, you've been a moping, miserable piece of shit and it's getting a little ridiculous!"

Mickey glared at her. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe I'm a miserable piece of shit because I had my ass fucking kicked? Or because I have an annoying, meddling douchebag for a sister?"

Mandy smirked and looked at him knowingly. "We both know why you've been miserable, don't play dumb with me."

Mickey just sighed and looked away.

"He loves you, too, you know."

Mickey looked back at her, trying not to look too interested in this bit of information. He then pinched the bridge of his nose. "The fuck are you on about?" he asked tiredly.

"He told me he loves you, too…in a roundabout way, but he said it."

Mickey gnawed on his bottom lip and looked away, Mandy's words only causing him to feel even more miserable. "Yeah, well," he began after a short pause. "It doesn't really matter anymore. It's over."

"Jesus, Mickey, you're so fucking stubborn!" Mandy exclaimed as she stood up and began pacing the floor. "You love him, he loves you…I don't get it."

"What's not to fucking get?" Mickey snapped. "I can't provide for him. I can't take care of him. If Ian and I are together, Ayden will go after your business. I'm protecting both of you here! How many times do I have to fucking say it?"

Mandy stopped her pacing and then faced him, her expression changing. She reached up and ran a hand through her hair.

"What?" Mickey snipped, knowing she was searching for a way to say something. "What the fuck is it? I know you want to say something, so just fucking say it."

"I think he hit Ian," she finally said, her words tumbling out of her mouth.

Mickey sat up when her words registered. He barely felt the sharp, shooting pain in his ribs. "What the fuck do you mean he hit him?"

"I'm not exactly sure, but Ian had a welt and a cut on his cheek, looked like someone smacked him pretty hard," Mandy went on. "I asked him about it and he said he got into a fight, but he was being really fucking weird about it…and it would make sense, wouldn't it? That Ayden would hit him? I mean, he knows you and Ian were together."

Without even saying anything, Mickey tossed the blankets away from his body and stood up from the couch, his body aching and protesting the entire time.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to see Ian," Mickey explained as he practically hobbled towards his bedroom to get dressed. He was doing his best to keep his anger at bay. "I need to go see for myself. I'll know if he's lying."

"Mickey—"

"Don't, Mandy," Mickey said sternly. "I'm fucking going."

"Good," Mandy said simply. "You should go. I was just going to ask if you wanted me to drive, you know…since you're currently decrepit?"

Mickey answered her with a middle finger over his shoulder before going to get dressed.

* * *

"Can I get your number?"

Ian had known this was coming. The guy with the sandy blond hair and incredible green eyes, that he had been serving for the past hour, had been eyeing him up the whole time. "Trust me," he said with a small, apologetic smile as he placed the man's whiskey sour in front of him, "you don't want any of this. I have more baggage than O'Hare."

"I can deal with a little baggage," the man said, his eyes raking appreciatively over Ian's upper body. "Besides, all I'm asking for is one night. I think I can have some fun with you. Whatta you say?"

Ian lifted his eyes and gave the guy a small smirk. "Sorry, man," he said. "Not really looking for anything right now."

"That's too bad," the guy said, sliding a business card towards Ian. "If you change your mind, give me a call. I'm in town for business all week."

Ian stared down at the business card after the man walked away and picked it up. "No, thanks," he grumbled before throwing the card into the trash bin under the bar. He had already gone down that road before; a handsome businessman in a suit and tie promising him nothing but good things. He already knew how that would turn out.

"Hey."

Ian's head shot up and his heart stopped in his chest when he saw that it was Mickey who had spoken. He straightened up a little and clutched the rag in his hand. Judging by the stiff look on Mickey's face, Mickey had heard everything the businessman had said to Ian. But that just served to piss Ian off even more. Mickey had no right getting upset over a guy hitting on him.

"What are you doing here?" Ian asked, trying to keep a straight face, trying to seem unaffected by Mickey's presence, even though his heart was racing in his chest.

He watched as Mickey's eyes searched his face, and then he immediately remembered his welted and scratched cheek. Fucking Mandy.

"He hit you, didn't he?" Mickey asked stiffly. "The fucker put his hands on you."

Ian sighed heavily and rubbed at the back of his neck. "You need to go, Mick."

"Just answer the question and I'll go."

"It's none of your business," Ian answered haughtily. "It stopped being your business when you broke it off and told me I didn't matter to you." He watched as Mickey sucked his lower lip into his mouth.

"Ian, I—"

"Look, can you just go? Please?" Ian asked, his broken voice betraying him. He avoided Mickey's eyes as he went back to wiping the bar top. "I'm trying to work, and I can't do that with you here."

"Just tell me he didn't do this to you and I'll leave," Mickey said. "Tell me it was just some random douchebag that hit you—some stupid fight you got into—and I'll walk away and you'll never have to hear from me again."

Ian's shoulders slumped and he stopped his wiping. He still didn't look at Mickey, but he could sense Mickey's growing anger. "Please just go," he finally said, his voice soft. He turned his back to Mickey and went to serve an awaiting customer.

When he turned back around a minute later, Mickey was gone.

* * *

Mickey got back to his apartment and slammed the door shut hard behind him, knowing he was probably going to get complaints from his asshole neighbors in the morning, but not giving a flying fuck in the moment. He ignored Mandy's glare from her spot on the couch and he began pacing the floor, his hand gripped in his hair.

"What the fuck happened?" Mandy asked, leaning forward to place her bowl of cereal on the coffee table and standing up. "What did he say?"

"The asshole hit him!" Mickey snapped. "The asshole fucking put his hands on him." He continued pacing, his anger only escalating with each step.

"Did he say that? Did he tell you why?"

"He didn't tell me anything. He didn't fucking have to. I could tell just by the look on his face," Mickey explained. "Fuck!" he then yelled, resisting the strong urge to punch the wall. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?"

"Mickey," Mandy said calmly. "Mickey," she said again more sternly when Mickey ignored her and continued pacing. "You need to tell Ian the truth."

Mickey finally stopped his pacing and turned around to look at her, a bewildered expression on his face. "How many times do I have to fucking tell—"

"I know what you told me, asshole," Mandy retorted. "I know what Ayden said, and I know about the check, and I know you think you're protecting me and Ian…but Mickey, you need to start thinking about yourself for once."

Mickey sat down in a chair at the table and bent forward to grip his head with both hands. "Fuck," he muttered.

"For our whole lives, you never allowed yourself to be happy. You never believed that you deserved to be happy. And Ian…he makes you happy, Mick. You two may not have gone about it in the best way, but you fucking love him and he loves you and the two of you deserve to be happy."

"You don't under—"

"Don't tell me I don't understand," Mandy interrupted. "Fuck Ayden. Take what's yours. Fight for Ian. Do whatever the fuck you have to do to make sure that he gets his meds. Stop being a fucking pussy and work on it together. This isn't you. Since when do you just fucking take shit lying down? Since when do you let some pretentious dickhead get the upper hand?"

Mickey sat back and ran a hand down his face. "He threatened your business, Mandy. You worked hard for everything you have. I can't just let him—"

"Let me worry about that," Mandy said. "I can handle whatever that fucker throws at me. I'll be damned if I let you use me and my business as an excuse for you not to be happy." Her voice then cracked, surprising even herself. "And you deserve to be fucking happy, Mickey."

Mickey stared back at her and then stood up and pulled his little sister in for a tight, quick hug with his good arm. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head and let her go in the next instant. He then began heading towards his bedroom.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to fucking think," Mickey said before slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Ian walked into the penthouse later that night to find that most of the lights were off and that Ayden had retired to bed for the night. He tossed his duffel bag carelessly to the floor and kicked his shoes off, not caring about where they landed.

He had thought about not going home—thought about just asking one of his work friends if he could just crash at their place for the night—but, in the end, he had decided to just face the inevitable. He was relieved, however, that Ayden was already sleeping. Ian was exhausted and would rather have the dreaded conversation in the morning.

He was fucking angry, to put it mildly. What fucking right did Ayden have to lay a hand on him? In the whole two years that they'd been together, Ayden had never once raised his hand to Ian. Ian had pressed his buttons and pushed him on several occasions over the years, but those instances had only ever earned him an eye roll or the silent treatment; never a hand across the face.

As much as he hated the fact, he knew enough to know that—right now…without Ayden—he had nothing. He would have to move back in with his siblings and he would have no way of getting his medication, at least not anytime soon. He knew, for the time being, that he had to stick this out with Ayden until he could find another way out. But he had every intention of letting Ayden know that if he ever touched him again, Ayden would be leaving the penthouse in a goddamn body bag.

Just as he sat down on the couch—knowing that there was no way in hell he was going to share a bed with Ayden—the overhead light came on and he turned his head to find Ayden standing behind him in the doorway to the bedroom.

"I didn't think you were coming home," Ayden said solemnly as he slowly walked towards the couch. "It's late."

Ian could instantly see in his eyes that Ayden was sorry, but that just somehow pissed Ian off even move.

"Ian," Ayden began as he sat down on the couch next to Ian. His eyes searched Ian's face and he reached up to softly caress the welt mark he had left. "Fuck, Ian. I'm so—"

"Don't even say you're fucking sorry right now, I swear to god," Ian snapped, moving out of reach of Ayden's hand.

Ayden pulled his hand away. "I shouldn't have hit you like that. I was completely out of line."

"You're fucking right you were out of line," Ian snapped with a tilt of his chin. "You shouldn't have hit me. Do it again and I swear—"

"I know. I know. You just pushed me too far," Ayden explained, cutting him off. "You know I've been stressed with work, and then this whole thing between you and the wedding planner…I just…I snapped."

Ian looked away at the mention of Mickey and swallowed the thick lump in his throat. Like he had been doing for the past few days, he pushed thoughts of Mickey into the back of his mind.

"I need to be honest with you about something. If we're going to keep doing this, I need to be honest with you."

Ian didn't say anything, only turned his head to look at Ayden, waiting.

"I slept with someone else," Ayden finally said after a drawn out pause. He continued before Ian could say anything. "That second business trip I took…when you called me to tell me you had a bad dream…I was with someone else."

Ian's face twisted into a frown and then he stood up, unable to be close to the other man, afraid he would deck him. He paced to the table at the other side of the room and sat down. "That night I called you…and you took the red eye home in the morning, you were with someone?"

Ayden continued with a nod of his head. "You and I were growing apart. We were constantly fighting. I felt you slipping away from me. So while I was away, I picked up someone at a bar and I slept with him."

"So, you make me feel bad about Mickey, but you cheated on me too?" Ian asked, his tone flat. He wasn't even hurt. He was pissed the fuck off. Pissed off that Ayden had made him feel like shit for what he had done, while Ayden had done the same thing to him.

"It wasn't the same, Ian," Ayden said with a frown. "I fucked someone else…once. But I never thought about leaving you. I never thought about calling off our wedding. I never fucking wanted to be with the guy!"

Ian ran a hand over his face and let out an exhausted sigh, his head still not caught up with everything.

"Be honest with me," Ayden said, his voice thick. "You called off the wedding because of him, didn't you?"

"I called off the wedding because I'm not fucking ready to be married!" Ian exclaimed. "Obviously, neither are you!"

"Stop lying to me!" Ayden exclaimed. "I'm being honest with you. I told you about the guy I slept with. Now tell me the truth. You called off our wedding because of him, didn't you? You wanted to be with him."

Ian didn't say anything, just stared back at Ayden, giving him all the answer he needed.

Ayden stood up and left the room, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

Ian just sat there in the deafening silence, blinking back tears. He wasn't crying over Ayden. He was crying because his life was such a fucking mess. He felt like he was slowly unraveling, and there wasn't a fucking thing he could do about it. He then thought about Mickey and he reached up and swiped at his wet cheeks.

He stood up and walked to the couch and fell face first onto it, burying his face in the pillow and hoping that sleep came fast.

Just as he drifted off, he remembered the thirty grand and wondered—in the back of his mind—if that money had gone towards someone else Ayden had fucked behind his back.

* * *

The next morning, Mickey walked into the lobby of the high-rise building and looked around, finding a directory on the wall. He walked over and examined it before finally spotting the name of Ayden's advertising company. He then stalked over to the elevators and impatiently waited for the doors to open. He got in, pressed the button for the ninth floor, and waited, his tension mounting.

Once the doors slid open on the ninth floor, Mickey walked out and was immediately faced with a bored looking receptionist. Before she could even get a word out, he said, "Ayden Scott. Where is he?"

"Mr. Scott is in a meeting right now," the woman answered sweetly. "Do you have an appointment?"

Mickey ignored her and started down the small hallway where the conference rooms and offices were.

"Sir! Sir, you can't go back there!"

Mickey ignored her. As he walked, he glanced into each room, most of them empty. He finally reached a conference room at the end of the hall and found Ayden in the middle of addressing a group of older men, all dressed in business suits and looking bored out of their minds.

Ayden looked up, his face immediately falling when he saw who had interrupted his pitch. "What are you doing here? You can't be in here."

"You fucking hit Ian?" Mickey exclaimed as he walked further into the room, ignoring the glares and whispers coming from the three unsuspecting businessmen.

"Now's not the time, and here certainly isn't the place," Ayden said, glancing nervously at his colleagues. He then looked back at Mickey, a silent warning in his eyes. "Please leave, or I'll call security to escort you out."

"You told me to let him go, huh? Told me to let him be with you, that you could take care of him," Mickey spat, "and you fucking hit him? That's you taking care of him? You're done," Mickey warned as he began backing out of the room, his finger pointing at Ayden. "You hear me? Fucking done."

Mickey turned and headed out of the room. Just as he reached the elevators, he was met by two security guards.

"Don't worry…I'm going!" he said as he got on the elevator and hit the button for the ground floor. The security guards still escorted him outside, and Mickey thought it was a small miracle that he didn't strangle them both, given the mood he was in.

* * *

Ian was lounging on the couch, mindlessly playing a game on his phone, when there was a knock on the door. Without taking his eyes off of his phone, he stood up and made his way to the door to open it. He looked up to greet whoever had interrupted him, and his breath caught in his throat.

"Hey," Mickey said.


	19. A Lot Like Goodbye

Mickey watched with a heavy heart as Ian's face fell when he saw him standing there. He hated the way Ian looked at him now, when just a few short days ago Ian had looked at him as if he'd hung the fucking moon. He knew it was only about to get worse.

"Hey."

Ian's jaw hardened, and he grabbed the very top of the door and leaned against it. "I really need to have a talk with my fucking doorman about letting just anyone up here."

Mickey didn't say anything to that, just sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and sighed.

"What are you even doing here?" Ian asked haughtily with narrowed eyes.

"Can I come in for a minute?" Mickey asked sullenly. "I need to talk to you."

"Oh. Oh! You need to talk to me?" Ian let out a dry chuckle and looked away. When he looked back at Mickey in the next instant, the forced smile slipped from his face. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Ian, look…let's cut the bullshit, alright? I need to talk to you about something important, man."

"Sorry. I'm busy," Ian snapped as he moved to shut the door. His effort was stopped, however, when Mickey shoved his foot in the way. "What the fuck, Mickey!"

"I really need to talk to you. Just give me five minutes. That's all I'm asking."

"You said all you needed to say in the hospital room the other day, didn't you," Ian stated flatly. He gave up trying to shut Mickey out, though, and turned to walk further into the penthouse.

Mickey stepped inside and shut the door behind himself. He placed the backpack he had with him on the floor. He knew it was a very real possibility that Ayden could come home early from work due to Mickey's little surprise office visit, but that was a risk he was willing to take.

Ian leaned back against the kitchen island and crossed his arms over his chest. When a silence ensued, he snapped, "You came here to talk, so…talk."

Mickey sighed and tilted his head, wishing Ian would stop with the hard, clipped tone of voice, but then he realized he couldn't really blame him. Ian had no idea why Mickey had done what he did. For all Ian knew, Mickey had just been using him for sex the whole time. He knew he should just be glad that Ian wasn't kicking his ass right now…or trying to, anyway.

"Can we sit down?" Mickey asked, nodding his head towards the couch.

"We can stand," Ian snipped. "So, tell me what you came here to say. I don't have all day. I'm meeting up with Lip in a little while."

Mickey swallowed thickly and shuffled his weight from foot to foot a few times before saying, "I didn't mean anything I said to you…in the hospital. I didn't fucking mean any of it."

Ian slowly uncrossed his arms and dropped them at his sides as Mickey's confession registered. "What do you mean you didn't mean any of it? It sure the fuck seemed like you did."

"No, I…fuck," Mickey said, running a hand over his mouth, his eyes darting back towards the couch. "Can we sit, please?"

"No. I want to stand," Ian snapped. "Start talking." Just then, Ian's phone chirped and he looked down at it. Judging by the look on Ian's face, Mickey knew it was probably Ayden. Luckily for Mickey, Ian swiped ignore and tossed the phone carelessly onto the counter.

Mickey decided to just go for it, knowing he was running out of time. He had to tell Ian everything before Ayden had a chance to. If he had any chance of salvaging any type of relationship with Ian, he had to be the one to tell Ian first.

"Ayden knew about us…before the whole bashing thing happened," Mickey finally blurted. "He knew about us sleeping together."

The hard expression Ian had been bearing since Mickey arrived melted into a look of utter confusion. "What? How do you know that he knew?"

Mickey thumbed at his bottom lip and let out a shaky sigh. "He came to the hospital that first night, after you and Mandy left to go home."

Ian's eyebrows furrowed, clearly having trouble wrapping his head around that information. "He came to the hospital? The night you got bashed? Ayden came to see you?"

Mickey could only swallow hard and nod.

"Why the fuck…what the fuck did he say to you?" Ian asked, his tone unsteady. He began pacing the length of the living room, his hand fisting at his hair.

"Ian," Mickey said, reaching out to grab Ian by the elbow, effectively stopping him. He recoiled when Ian pulled his arm from his grasp. "Ian," he said more calmly. "We should sit down."

"I don't want to fucking sit down!" Ian snapped. "Tell me what he fucking said to you, Mickey. Why the fuck am I just finding out about this now? You couldn't tell me? You couldn't warn me that he fucking knew!" Ian's voice then trailed off as he turned to look glaringly at Mickey. "Is that…is that why you broke things off with me? Because you found out that he knew about us?"

Mickey closed his eyes and pinched his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"Mick, you better start talking, or I swear to fucking—"

"He paid me off."

Mickey didn't open his eyes, just continued to pinch his nose. Judging by the now deafening silence, he could only imagine how Ian was feeling in the moment. He was afraid to open his eyes and see the look on Ian's face.

"He…he paid you off," Ian repeated after a long pause. "He paid you off to end things with me, and you agreed to it? You said all those fucked up, shitty things to me, broke my fucking heart…for what? For money?"

Mickey finally opened his eyes. The expression he saw on Ian's face was even worse than he had imagined. Ian was crying now, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared back at Mickey. The look on his face was even worse than it had been when he'd first opened the door.

"Answer me, Mickey!" Ian exclaimed, taking Mickey by surprise by pressing his palms to Mickey's chest and pushing him backwards a couple of steps. "Money is more fucking important to you than I was, huh? You asshole!" He pushed Mickey again, only to have Mickey regain his balance and push against Ian's chest with his good hand to hold him back and stop any further attacks. He then grabbed Ian's wrist.

"Aye, listen to me, alright? Fucking listen! He told me I wouldn't be able to take care of you. He…he's right. I can't. I have nothing to offer you, Ian, and you…you deserve everything."

"Oh, fuck you!" Ian spat, tearing his wrist from Mickey's hold and turning to pace to the other side of the room. "Fuck you!"

"He knows shit about me, Ian! He knows my real name is Mikhailo. He knows I'm not really a fucking wedding planner, and that Mandy is the real wedding planner. He knows where I really work, that I have no money. He threatened Mandy's business, Ian."

With his back still turned to Mickey, Ian shook his head incredulously. "How much did he offer you?" He turned around after a heavy pause to stare at Mickey pointedly. "How much did it cost to buy you off? How much did it take for you to pretend I don't matter to you?"

"It doesn't fucking matter."

"The fuck it doesn't!" Ian shouted. "How much?"

"Twenty-five thousand," Mickey finally answered solemnly, his heart hurting in his chest when he saw Ian's whole posture sag. He quickly continued as he took a step forward. "I was only doing what I thought was best for you. You have to believe that." He paced to where Ian stood and grabbed Ian by the elbow. "I didn't think I could take care of you. I thought he…I thought that he would be able to do that for you…pay for your therapy, get your meds, do all that shit." Mickey ignored Ian's scoff and said, "Then I found out he hit you…"

"What the fuck, Mickey." Ian's voice shook with emotion, and he squeezed his eyes shut, hanging his head. "Fuck…"

"Ian," Mickey said, his voice gravelly as his eyes searched Ian's face. "I don't know what to say to make this better. Tell me what to say, what to do."

"There's nothing you_ can_ say!"

Mickey stared back at Ian, visibly swallowing a few times before saying, "Ian, I…fuck…I love you."

"No," Ian said, shrugging out of Mickey's hold. "No, don't. Don't fucking say that to me! You don't get to say that to me." He moved to brush past Mickey, but Mickey grabbed him and pulled him in for a desperate embrace.

Mickey held the back of Ian's head, his whole body shaking. "I do," he murmured against Ian's shoulder. "I fuckin' love you."

Ian sagged in Mickey's embrace, his arms straight at his sides, and he cried into Mickey's jacket.

"I was only trying to do what's best for you," Mickey murmured, digging his fingers into Ian's hair and kneading his scalp lightly. Mickey realized he was crying, too. "I was doing it for you…and for Mandy. You have to believe that. You have to know that."

Ian nodded once, sniffed, and then pulled away. "The money didn't help, though, huh?" he asked stiffly, finally looking Mickey straight in the eyes. "You could have walked away without taking the money. Fuck, Mickey!"

Mickey nodded and visibly swallowed. He then turned to walk to the backpack he had placed on the floor after arriving. He unzipped it and pulled out a manila envelope before walking back over to Ian. He handed the envelope to the confused redhead.

Ian took the envelope apprehensively and opened it to peer inside.

"It's all there," Mickey said, his bleary eyes searching Ian's face. "I didn't spend a penny of it. I had Mandy deposit the check into my account right away. I wanna give it to you. I want you to have it so you can leave that prick…so you can pack your shit, leave him, and have money for your meds, at least for a couple of months."

Ian sniffed and shook his head gingerly as he continued staring at the money.

Mickey stepped closer and hooked a finger under Ian's chin, forcing Ian to look at him. He caught one of Ian's tears with his thumb. "I love you," he said again whole-heartedly, meaning it more than he had ever meant anything before in his life.

"I—I get why you did it," Ian finally said, his voice rough and raw with emotion. "As fucked up as it is, I get it. I am a fucking handful…and I get why you thought you couldn't handle me." When Mickey tried to interrupt him, Ian continued. "But you should have come to me with this, Mickey. You should have fucking told me, and we could have come up with something together. Instead, you decide to break my fucking heart? You make me think that you didn't want me? You were about to let me marry someone else. What if he hadn't hit me? You never would have told me about any of it." Ian reached up and pulled Mickey's hand away from his face. "How can I ever fucking trust you after this? You took away my choice. You didn't even give me a choice."

"Ian—"

"Just go," Ian said tiredly, walking over to the counter and tossing the manila envelope aside.

"Come with me," Mickey offered. "Pack up some of your shit and come with me. We can talk about this. We can work through this."

"We? There is no we here, Mickey. Maybe there never really was. Maybe we were just fooling ourselves the whole fucking time," Ian said blandly. "You need to just go."

"Ian, I—"

"It's done," Ian snipped. "It's over. Go."

Mickey chewed on his bottom lip as his wet eyes searched Ian's face. After a long stretch of silence, Mickey nodded his head. "Okay." He turned and began heading towards the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob. "I'm so fucking sorry, Ian," he said, his voice cracking. "I am. I'm sorry." He opened the door and walked out.

* * *

Later that evening, Ian didn't even react when he heard Ayden coming in through the door from work. He was sitting on the couch, his knees pressed to his chest, his chin propped on his knees, his eyes staring blankly ahead at nothing.

In his periphery, he saw Ayden walk further into the living room and then stop when he spotted him. "You okay? Why are you sitting in the dark with the television off?"

Ian didn't say anything…only continued staring ahead at nothing.

"Babe?" Ayden said as he reached up and loosened his tie. "You okay? What's going on?"

"You know I used to think you were some sort of fucking knight in shining armor," Ian finally said monotonously, his voice hoarse from crying earlier. "You were this mysterious guy who swooped into my life at the perfect time and you saved me. You really fucking did. You got me to clean my shit up and—for a little while—you made me feel really fucking good about myself."

"Ian," Ayden said as he walked further into the living area, but stopped short of reaching the couch. "What's going on? Why are you talking like this?"

Ian continued staring as he went on. "The truth of the matter is that you never really loved me. You just loved the idea of me. Loved controlling me. You loved having that power over me."

"What are you—"

"You held the fact that you helped me over my head every chance you got. You used it against me every chance you got," Ian continued, unperturbed. "You don't love me. You don't even fucking like me half the time. Everything I do annoys you. You don't listen to me, you don't see me, you don't know me…not really."

"You're not making any sense right now," Ayden retorted.

"Nothing fucking makes sense anymore," Ian said tiredly as he pressed his face against his knees and dug a hand in his hair. He felt the couch sag as Ayden sat down next to him, and then he felt a hand caressing his back. He stiffened at the touch.

"Talk to me, Ian. Where is all this coming from?"

Ian answered him with a sob as he cried into the fabric of his sweatpants. When Ayden rubbed his back again, Ian lifted his head and fixed his red-rimmed eyes on Ayden's. "Tell me what you spent that twenty-five grand on…and please don't fucking lie to me."

Ayden's hand stilled on Ian's back. He visibly swallowed. "Mickey was here, wasn't he?" he said after a tense pause.

Ian's eyebrows furrowed and he suddenly stood up from the couch. "So, it's true. You paid Mickey off to stay away from me?"

Ayden stared up at him, his mouth slightly agape.

"Don't fucking lie to me!"

Ayden suddenly stood up. "Yes! Yes, I did, alright? I paid him off to keep him away from you, and I'd do it again if I had to! Like hell I was just going to sit back and let him—"

"What! Let him what? Win?" Ian cut him off coldly. "Because I know you sure as hell didn't do it because you love me. You just couldn't stand the thought of some poor, dirty thug from the South Side swooping in and stealing your guy…your fucking charity case."

"You're goddamn right I wasn't giving you up without a fight! Not after everything we've been through. Not after everything I did for you!" Ayden said heatedly, taking a step forward, to which Ian took a step back. "Is it so fucking wrong what I did? It should just show you how much you mean to me, Ian."

"By fucking lying to me? Going behind my back and making deals with him?"

"Don't even go there!" Ayden exclaimed. "You've been lying to me ever since you met that scumbag! Fucking him behind my back for weeks!" He then turned around and stalked towards the kitchen. "It's a shame those guys didn't do worse," he grumbled.

Ian's head shot up. "What?" he snapped incredulously. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Ayden pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, and turned to fix Ian with a pointed stare. Without answering, he opened his water and took a long swig, his eyes never leaving Ian's.

Ian stared back at him, his heart hammering in his throat as horrible thoughts filled his head; thoughts he didn't even want to begin to believe. Suddenly, the knowledge that an unaccounted for five grand had been spent within the last week rushed to the forefront of Ian's mind.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Ian blurted tersely, his voice quivering.

Ayden slowly pulled his water bottle away from his mouth.

"You did that to him. That's where the other five grand went, isn't it? You paid those guys to—" Ian couldn't even finish his sentence as a wave of nausea hit him.

Ayden placed his water on the counter and strode over to Ian. He cupped his hands around Ian's face. "Listen to me."

"No," Ian spat, trying to back away from the other man. "Get the fuck off me!"

"Ian, I did it for us," Ayden began desperately.

"No," Ian said, shaking his head as he tried to pull Ayden's hands away from his face. Hot tears were rolling down his cheeks again as the seriousness and maliciousness of what Ayden had done hit him full force. "Get your fucking hands off me!"

"I found out about you and him a couple weeks ago. I knew something was up with you, so I had a friend look into him. I knew something was going on, and I didn't want to lose you, Ian. You're all I have. I have no one else, and I couldn't lose you…not to him!"

"So you paid a bunch of guys to beat the shit out of him?" Ian yelled, finally pulling away from Ayden and shoving him hard. "What the fuck is the matter with you! What was having Mickey beat up supposed to accomplish? I still would've—" Ian's words trailed off as he stared into Ayden's eyes, any little bit of the man he had once loved now completely gone. "You didn't just want them to beat him up, did you? You wanted them to do worse. Jesus…"

"Ian."

"You found some strung out, desperate thugs from the street and paid them to what? Kill him? Put him in a goddamn coma?" Ian exclaimed, his entire body shaking with anger.

"Listen to me—" Ayden tried again desperately and stepped forward.

"Fuck you!" Ian bellowed and punched Ayden hard in his pretty face, causing the other man to double over and shout in pain. He knew he had probably broken Ayden's nose, and he knew he would do worse if he didn't leave. "We're done."

Ian walked over to the counter, grabbed the manila envelope and his duffel bag by the door, and walked out, slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

Mickey leaned back against the bar and scanned the crowd as he brought his bottle of beer up to his lips and took a swig. He was already on his fifth beer of the night, and he was to the point where he was starting to sway on his feet a little, and the thoughts in his head were turning fuzzy around the edges.

He was in some seedy gay bar close to his place—the fucking Manhole for fuck's sake—and, so far, it was slim pickings. He was looking for a somewhat suitable (and nameless) fuck buddy for the night.

It had been almost a week since he had last seen Ian.

It was getting late. He had work early in the morning, and he finally decided to give up on his quest to get Ian Gallagher pounded out of his head. He finished his lukewarm beer in two long swallows, and then placed the empty bottle back on the bar top behind him, only to knock it over with his unsteady hand, much to the bartender's chagrin.

"Can I buy you another one?"

Mickey turned his head to the stranger now standing beside him. Upon first glance, the guy was hot…with dark brown hair and green eyes. He had a nice mouth and nice teeth, and Mickey figured he'd do.

"No, but you can suck my dick," he slurred.

The man only nodded his head towards the exit and Mickey followed after him.

It was a short walk to Mickey's apartment, and he drunkenly fumbled with his key in the lock for a few dozen seconds before finally unlocking it. He stumbled into the dark, quiet apartment and clumsily made his way to his bedroom, his new friend eagerly in tow.

"Mickey?" Mandy called out from her bedroom. "Are you okay? Why the fuck are you making so much noise?"

"Yeah, 'm fine. Go the fuck to sleep," Mickey grumbled as he slipped into his room and shut the door behind them.

The man was immediately aggressive, skipping the small talk as he pulled Mickey against him and in for a devouring, sloppy kiss. He tasted like stale cigarettes and peach schnapps. Mickey fucking hated peach schnapps.

"I'm bottom," Mickey slurred.

"Good…'cause I'm about to wreck that ass," the guy said.

They hastily undressed and fell on the bed in a tangle of limbs.

Mickey was face down on the mattress moments later, his bad arm held tightly against himself, his ass in the air, his sweaty cheek pressed against the cold pillow as the guy grabbed the lube and began hastily preparing him.

Mickey squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the stranger's finger press inside him, and then another, and then a third one. He was rough and it started to hurt. Mickey buried his face in the pillow, and it took him a little while to realize that he was crying.

"You ready for me?" the guy asked huskily, his cock pressed against him, waiting.

It didn't feel right.

The guy didn't feel right.

Mickey turned his face away from the pillow and gasped. "No," he said throatily just as the other man's cock breached him. "No…stop. Fuckin' stop." He pushed himself up and sat back against the headboard. He ran an unsteady hand over his face and rubbed at his eyes. "You need to go."

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" the man exclaimed, motioning towards his rock hard cock.

"What fucking part of you need to go didn't you fucking get?" Mickey yelled. "Get the fuck out!"

The man scoffed and crawled off the bed to gather his clothes. "Fucking dick," he said as he left Mickey's room and found his way out of the apartment.

Mickey rested his head back and buried his face in his hands. Moments later, he shot out of bed and ran to the bathroom, dropping to his knees and vomiting into the toilet. After he had puked up that night's dinner, he sat with his back against the wall, tears streaming down his cheeks.

* * *

Mickey called off work sick the next morning.

He hated that he was screwing his coworkers over on a Friday night, but there was no way he'd be able to deal with customers while being in the mood he was in.

He didn't usually experience hangovers—having gotten somewhat immune to them over the years—but he had a feeling the heartache he was experiencing was a contributing factor as to why he felt like absolute and total shit.

"You sure you don't need anything before I go, dickwad?" Mandy asked as she slipped her jacket on. "I'm going to be gone most of the day. I'm going out with Emily for a few drinks after work."

"Will you quit fucking coddling me?" Mickey grumbled from the couch as he channel-surfed. "Jesus. I'm fine."

Mandy rolled her eyes. "Well, there's crackers and soup in the cupboard if you get hungry…and the aspirin is in the medicine cabinet." She made her way to the door and looked back at him. "Are you sure you don't wanna talk? About what happened between you and Ian?"

"I didn't wanna talk about it the first fifty times you asked, what makes you think I wanna talk about it now," Mickey snipped as he settled on an episode of Judge Judy. "Now get out of here, you're being annoying. I'll be fine."

Mandy gave him one last look of pity before leaving.

Once Mickey was alone, his walls came crashing down. He rested his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. He ran an unsteady hand down his face and let out a heavy sigh.

A knock on the door jarred his nerves, and he groaned as he reluctantly stood up.

"Christ. Don't you have your fucking key?" he exclaimed. "What did you forget this time?" He pulled the door open and was surprised to see that it was Ian standing out in the hallway, not Mandy.

Ian's hands were shoved casually into the pockets of his hoodie, and his eyes were bright as he stared back at Mickey. "…Hey."

Mickey let out a slow breath as he took in the sight in front of him. He didn't think he'd see Ian again…especially not so soon. His heart was hammering in his chest, and his head swam with theories as to why Ian was currently standing in front of him.

"Is this a bad time?" Ian shuffled nervously, peering over Mickey's shoulder into the apartment. "Can I come in or no?"

"No. No, yeah. Yeah," Mickey stammered, knowing that he probably sounded like a fucking idiot. He stepped to the side and allowed Ian to step through the threshold. He hated the fact that the smell of the other man and the slight brushing of Ian's hoodie against his arm sent his heart racing even faster.

Ian walked into the living room, but stopped short of sitting on the couch. He turned around and looked at Mickey apprehensively. "Sorry to just show up like this. I shoulda called."

"Uh," Mickey said awkwardly, finding himself more nervous than he'd ever been in his life. He rubbed at the back of his neck and walked to the fridge. "You, uh… you want a beer?"

"Yeah," Ian said. "I can have one. Just one, though."

"Oh, yeah…right. Forgot you can't really drink on your meds," Mickey said lamely as he retrieved two beers and handed one to Ian. He then nodded towards the two stools at the counter island. They sat down and sipped on their beers for a while before Mickey broke the tense silence. "So, not that I'm complaining or anything, but, uh…why are you here?"

Ian slowly lowered his beer from his mouth and placed it on the counter in front of him. He avoided Mickey's eyes as he began peeling at the label on his bottle. "I wasn't going to come," he finally said. "Up until a couple days ago, I was convinced that I didn't ever want to see you again."

Mickey looked away from him, Ian's words like a knife to the gut.

"But that was just the anger talking," Ian finished, finally looking up and catching Mickey's eyes. "Because—when it all comes down to it—I understand why you did what you did. I do. I need medicine—really expensive fucking medicine—and I need doctors and hospital stays and therapy sessions…and that would have somewhat fallen on your shoulders if we were together. You can't give me that, and Ayden was able to provide me all that, so I get it."

Mickey rubbed at his lip, deciding to just let Ian talk.

"I just wish you would have come to me about it. We could have maybe figured something out," Ian continued, his voice breaking. "Fuck, Mickey, I was falling in lo—" He stopped and shook his head. He reached up and quickly swiped at his eye. "I just came here to say that…that as hurt as I am…it shouldn't be like that. I shouldn't have to depend on anyone to take care of me. Not Ayden, and especially not you. I need to learn how to take care of me. I need to get my shit together and be by myself for a little while. I need to grow up and I need to learn how to make myself feel alive. I can't always depend on you to make me feel like that." He reached over and pulled Mickey's hand away from his beer and laced their fingers together.

"So…what does this mean?" Mickey rasped. He swallowed the bitter lump in his throat as he stared down at their entwined fingers.

"It means that you saved me, Mick…in your own way. You made me realize that I'm worth more than what Ayden was giving me. You made me open my eyes and realize that—even though it didn't look like it at first glance—I was in an unhealthy, abusive relationship. You taught me how to laugh again, and you showed me that it's okay to fuck up sometimes," Ian's voice cracked and he squeezed Mickey's hand. "And you showed me that I still have a lot of growing up to do."

Mickey didn't say anything, just closed his eyes, thinking that Ian's words sounded a lot like goodbye.

"I left Ayden," Ian continued unsteadily. "The night you confessed everything to me. I took my bag and left. I kept all my shit there; none of it means anything to me anymore, anyway."

"Good…that's good," Mickey said, his heart pounding in his ears. "Where are you staying now?"

"I'm staying with my sister for a while until I can get on my feet. I still have that money you gave me…to take care of my meds for a little while."

"What about—" Mickey began, his voice not sounding like his own to his own ears. "What about us? Where's this leave us?"

"I don't know," Ian said sadly. "Right now I need to just focus on me." He unlaced their hands and placed his hand over Mickey's cheek, turning his face so that he could look into Mickey's eyes. He leaned in and brushed his lips softly against Mickey's, his thumb smoothing over Mickey's cheek, and then pulled away before the kiss could deepen. He then pressed their foreheads together.

"I really do fuckin' love you," Mickey muttered, the words barely audible.

Ian let out a long, shaky breath. He nodded against Mickey's forehead and then pulled away. "I know you do," he said, his voice catching.

Mickey sniffed and took a swig of his beer to cover his quivering mouth.

"Mick…there's something else you should know before I go."

Mickey swiped a hand down his face, not knowing how much more bad news he could take.

"Ayden was behind the bashing."

Mickey took in Ian's words and then stood up, nearly knocking his stool over in the process. "The fuck did you just say?"

Ian stood up, too, and grabbed Mickey's good arm. "Listen to me, okay? I saw that there was five grand taken out of our bank account the other day, and I put two and two together. I confronted him about it, and he basically admitted to it. He paid those guys to beat you up bad. He was trying to keep you away from me."

"That fucking…I'm going to fucking kill him!"

"Mick," Ian pleaded, grabbing him by the biceps and turning an irate Mickey around to face him. "Don't do anything stupid, okay? Please. Promise me you won't hurt him."

"Are you seriously fucking defending that asshole to me right now?" Mickey exclaimed, fuming. "You're trying to protect him?! After what he fucking did?"

"No, idiot, I'm trying to protect you!" Ian snapped. "I don't want you doing something stupid and going to jail. He's not worth that."

Mickey heaved a deep sigh and looked up into Ian's eyes. He reached up, gripped the back of Ian's neck, and pulled him down so that their foreheads were touching.

"You have no idea how bad I want to fucking kill him right now," Mickey muttered, shaking with anger. The old him would have walked right out the door and hunted the motherfucker down, but Ian was holding him back.

Ian rubbed his hands up and down Mickey's arms, grounding him. "Promise me, Mick. Promise me you won't do anything stupid."

Mickey was silent for a while before saying, "As long as you promise me something." He pulled away and looked up into Ian's eyes intently. "Promise me you'll come see me…when you get your shit together." When Ian opened his mouth to respond, Mickey cut him off. "It…even if you don't wanna be with me. I just want you in my life, in whatever way you wanna be. Got it?"

Ian nodded and cupped Mickey's cheek in his hand, smoothing his thumb against his cheekbone. "I promise." He smiled softly, his eyes shining with unshed tears, and then he stepped away. "I'll see ya, Mick."

Mickey could only stand there and watch as Ian walked out the door.

* * *

The next morning, Ayden was in the middle of giving a presentation that was sure to impress the pants off of these assholes.

He stood tall and spoke with confidence. He was witty and charming and charismatic. He had these fools eating out of the palm of his hand. The campaign was as good as his.

His perfect presentation was interrupted when two uniformed police officers walked in, with his secretary Shelly nervously following behind.

"Can, uh, can I help you, gentlemen."

"Ayden Scott?"

Ayden's heart dropped as realization set in. He watched as the group of people who had been completely charmed by him less than a minute ago now shot him perturbed and displeased looks. "Yes, I'm Ayden Scott. May I ask what this is about?"

One of the officers unhooked his handcuffs and made his way to Ayden. "Please turn around and place your hands behind your back. You're not actually under arrest. This is for our protection, as well as yours."

Ayden reluctantly turned and did as he was told. "Again, may I ask what this is about?"

"Ayden Scott, we're bringing you in for questioning regarding the hate crime committed against Mikhailo Milkovich on the night of August third."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ayden stammered as he was being hauled out of the room. "Take me out of these handcuffs now!"

"Either you come with us peacefully, or we can do this the hard way and we'll actually arrest you. Your choice."

"Shelly! Shelly, call my lawyer!" Ayden called out desperately as he was being tugged towards the elevators.


	20. This Time Around (epilogue)

Mickey brought his cigarette up to his lips and took a long drag. He moaned and felt his nerves immediately begin to calm as the nicotine hit his system.

The door beside him swung open and April stepped out. "Hey, you finally get a break?"

"Yeah, Darlene is covering me," Mickey said around his cigarette, his eyes squinting against the sun. "I really don't feel like going back in there. It's fucking crazy. I already had some brat spill shit all over my shoes, and some douchebag left me a dollar tip on a forty dollar check."

"You can always go home," April said as she lit her own cigarette. "You've already been here for twelve hours. You have to be tired."

Mickey shrugged. "Nah, I don't care. I'll stay."

"You've been working a lot lately…too much."

Mickey flicked his cigarette and stared down at the ground. "Just trying to keep busy. Trying to keep my mind off shit." He thought about Ian then and, as always, he pushed those thoughts back into the deepest recesses of his mind.

He tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. "Break's up," he said sullenly as he went back inside to finish the last three hours of his shift. He washed his hands and headed back out to the dining area.

"I just sat someone at table nine," the hostess Joy said. "He specifically asked to be seated in your section. He's cute." She winked before walking away.

Mickey's heart immediately thumped in his chest, and he stood on his tiptoes to peer over at table nine. Sure enough, he saw a shock of red hair. He thumped back down onto the balls of his feet, not knowing what the fuck to do. "Shit."

Mickey hadn't seen nor heard from Ian in over seven months.

Finally, after pacing a little—and considering sending April over to wait on Ian instead—Mickey gathered up enough courage and finally made his way over to him.

"Hey."

Ian looked up and immediately grinned at the sight of Mickey. "Hey, Mick."

Mickey didn't know what the fuck to do or say, so he poised his pen over his notepad. "Hey. What, uh, what can I get for you?"

"What's good here?" Ian asked. "I heard you have good pie."

Mickey looked up and finally smiled in spite of himself. "The pie's really fucking good."

"Oh, yeah?" Ian shifted and reached for something in his back pocket. He pulled out his wallet and retrieved his slightly creased and stained punch card for free pie that Mickey had given him all those months ago. "I don't suppose you'd still accept this, even though it expired like eight months ago?"

Mickey took the punch card and looked down at it. "Nah, man, sorry. Gonna have to pay full price."

"Well…shit, that sucks."

Mickey lifted his eyes, and they stared at each other for a few beats too long. He put his pad back into his apron pocket and slipped into the booth across from Ian. After a long silence, he said, "I don't really know what to say right now."

"Yeah, me neither," Ian said softly as he studied Mickey's face.

"It's been seven fucking months, Ian. Not one word? You couldn't even send me a fucking text message to let me know you were okay?"

"I told you I needed time to get my shit together."

"So that meant completely writing me out of your life? We couldn't even just be friends?" Mickey snipped. "Christ, Ian."

Ian smirked. "Mickey…you know we could never be just friends. We tried that once, remember? It didn't work out the first time, the hell makes you think it would have worked now?"

Mickey ran a hand over his head and sighed, knowing Ian was right. He and Ian could never, in a million years, be just friends.

"You look good."

"Yeah, you too," Mickey replied. And Ian did. Ian looked really fucking good, too good. Probably better than Mickey had ever seen him. He looked happy. "So, what's been going on with you?"

"Well, I quit the club. I got an actual grown up job now. Some fucking boring desk job at Worldwide Cup where my sister works. I fucking hate it, but it's a job. I get medical benefits when I hit the year mark in less than five months. I still have a chunk of that money left that you gave me for my meds, so I should be okay. I'm okay."

"I'm glad," Mickey said, catching Ian's eyes again. He ached to reach out and place his hand over Ian's, but he didn't.

It was bizarre. For the past few months, Mickey had been so convinced that he was finally getting over Ian. He was convinced that he was okay without him. All it took was seeing Ian again to realize just how fucking wrong he was. Mickey wasn't fucking over him; not even close.

"I'm thinking of even taking some classes at the community college," Ian continued. "I'm saving up, working on finally getting my own place. I'm really good."

"That's good," Mickey said with a nod, even though it hurt to hear Ian talk about his life without him. Ian didn't need anyone anymore…not Ayden, and especially not him.

"How about you?" Ian continued. "What have you been up to?"

Mickey rubbed at the back of his neck. "I've been, uh, the same. Working here…working a lot of long hours. Still living with Mandy."

"Yeah?" Ian asked as he played with a sugar packet. "You—you seeing anyone?"

"No," Mickey said. "Had a couple dates here and there—guys Mandy fixed me up with—but nothing came of them. You?" he asked hesitantly, knowing the answer to that question could be potentially devastating.

"No. Not dating anyone," Ian answered, dropping his eyes to the table. He then cleared his throat and shuffled in his seat a little before looking back up. "So…I heard about Ayden through the grapevine."

"Yeah, man," Mickey said. "He actually confessed to the cops about what he did. I guess he broke fairly easily during questioning. I always knew he was a bitch. He got eighteen months."

"I heard," Ian mumbled. "I think he got off pretty fucking easy, actually."

"That's what money and a good lawyer gets you these days, I guess," Mickey said dully.

Ian looked back up. "I heard he lost his job…the only thing that ever really mattered to him, so I guess there's that."

"And he lost you. He has to be kicking himself in the ass for that one," Mickey said without thinking.

Ian ran a hand through his hair and then glanced around, apparently not knowing what to say to that.

"I should really get back to work before Don has a fucking aneurysm," Mickey said reluctantly, sliding out of the booth to stand up. He wasn't ready to say goodbye yet—not knowing when he'd get the chance to see Ian again—but his boss was starting to stare. "Can I get you something to drink or something? Some pie? It's on the house."

"No, I should probably get going, actually. I told Fiona I'd be home early to help with dinner," Ian said as he also stood up. They stood awkwardly facing each other. He then stepped forward and grabbed Mickey by the arm to pull him in for a hug. "C'mere," he murmured.

Mickey dug his face against Ian's shoulder and closed his eyes as he brought his arms up to wrap around Ian. He inhaled and hugged Ian tighter, not wanting to let him go.

When they finally pulled apart, Mickey swallowed visibly and avoided Ian's eyes. He wished he didn't feel everything in that hug, but he did. "Don't be a stranger, a'ight?" he said lamely.

"I won't," Ian said with a small smile. "I'll see ya, Mick." He nodded his head once, and then stepped around Mickey to leave.

Mickey gnawed on his lip and stared at the spot where Ian had been standing, his heart dropping in his chest. He didn't want to let Ian walk away again. He wanted to turn around and tell Ian that he still loved him; that he still wanted him. He wanted to tell Ian not to walk through that fucking door. But he knew he couldn't. It was over.

Just as Mickey moved to head back into the kitchen to try to collect himself before having to deal with actual customers, Ian called out.

"Hey, Milkovich!"

Mickey turned around to find Ian standing in the middle of the bustling diner. He frowned and walked hesitantly towards Ian. He then watched as Ian's face slowly broke into a smile.

Mickey's heart skipped a beat. "You forget something?"

"Yeah, I did, actually," Ian said, with a gentle smile. "You wanna go on a date with me?"

Mickey stopped a few feet from Ian, the loaded question hanging between them. He was vaguely aware of the customers around them watching and whispering among themselves, but he didn't dare break eye contact with Ian to glare at them.

Ian continued, suddenly sounding nervous. "I figured we didn't really get a fair shot the first time around. Figured we could try again maybe, take things slow this time. Go on dates and actually get to know each other. Do it right."

Mickey just stared at him, not knowing quite how to respond.

Ian took a step closer, shortening the gap between them, his smile faltering slightly as his eyes searched Mickey's. "You…you told me to come see you when I got my shit together. Well, I did. I feel better than I have in a long fucking time. I can actually take care of myself now and I…I know what I want. I want you, Mickey. I want to be in your life. Fuck, I want everything. I want everything with you."

Mickey stepped forward then, grabbed Ian by the back of the neck, and pulled him in for a kiss to shut him up.

Ian laughed against Mickey's mouth, and then groaned when Mickey's tongue slipped between his lips. He grabbed Mickey's face between his hands and kissed the heck out of him before pulling away for air and pressing their foreheads together. "So…does this mean you'll go on a date with me?"

"Fuck yeah, I'll go on a date with you," Mickey said breathlessly. He dug both of his hands in Ian's hair, and then leaned back in and pressed his mouth against Ian's again.

Mickey was vaguely aware of his coworkers and customers clapping and whooping around them as they kissed fervently (Jermaine being the loudest, of fucking course), and he was incredibly aware of how goddamn cheesy it all was, but—at the moment—he didn't give a shit.

For the first time in Mickey's life, everything was right in his world.

* * *

Mickey stared back at his reflection disapprovingly.

"Will you stop it?" Mandy asked a few nights later as she watched Mickey fidget in front of her full-length mirror. "You look fine. What the fuck are you so nervous about, anyway? You and Ian have already seen each other's dicks, and probably licked each other's assholes." She then shuddered at that thought.

"Yeah, but this is different," Mickey said as he stared back at his reflection. He wore a nice pair of jeans that he had spent half of that week's paycheck on, and a royal blue button down shirt. Something didn't look right, though. "Before we were just messing around. Before he was engaged. Now things are actually…"

"What?" Mandy asked with an arched brow. "Serious? Real?"

"Yeah, I guess," Mickey said, and then irritably began undoing all the buttons that had taken him ten minutes to do up.

"You're not having doubts, are you?"

"Doubts? You mean about Ian?"

"Yeah," Mandy said, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her chest.

Mickey's face scrunched up as he looked at his sister through the reflection of the mirror. "Fuck no. I've never been more fucking sure about anything in my life." He hung his head to finish undoing his buttons, missing the grin on his sister's face. "I just don't want to fuck shit up."

"You know you could show up wearing a hefty bag and he'd still want you," Mandy pointed out. "You guys were apart for seven months and he still wants you. You're golden, Mick."

Mickey removed his shirt and grabbed the next one in line; a dark gray button-down. It was the same shirt as the last one, just a different color.

"Jesus, how many shirts did you fucking buy? Old Navy have a sale or something?"

"Can I get ready in peace, please?" Mickey snapped. "Jesus."

Mandy whipped the pillow at his head.

"Fuck, watch the hair, wench!"

"You have so much fucking gel in your hair, that shit isn't going anywhere," Mandy teased. In the next breath, she asked, "So, where are you taking him, anyway?"

"He's actually planning it. I have no idea where we're going. He won't fucking tell me anything." Mickey realized his sister was being too quiet, and he lifted his eyes to meet hers in the mirror. He then dropped his arms to his sides and tilted his head when he saw her eyes widen and a grin spread across her face. "What? Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm sorry, but that is just too fucking adorable."

"Alright, get the fuck out."

"This is my room, shithead."

"Get the fuck out!" Mickey exclaimed again as he grabbed a lint roller from the top of her dresser and threw it at her.

"Alright, alright. Asshole," Mandy grumbled as she climbed off her bed and left the room.

Mickey heaved a deep sigh before looking back at his reflection.

Why the fuck was he so nervous? This was Ian. Yeah, they hadn't seen each other in seven months, and everything was still so fucking complicated and fragile and up in the air…but still, it was Ian.

After finally deciding to settle on the dark gray shirt, he made his way out into the living room just as there was a knock on the door.

"I'll get it," Mandy said as she jumped off the couch and went to the door. She opened it to reveal Ian on the other side.

Mickey swallowed the thick lump in his throat as their eyes met. Fuck, Ian looked good. He felt plain in comparison. Suddenly, Mickey wished he had gone with the teal button-down.

"Hey," Ian said as he stepped inside.

"Hey."

"So," Mandy said as she hopped up to sit on the counter island. It was obvious she was biting back a grin as she watched them awkwardly assess each other. "Where are you guys going tonight?"

"It's a surprise, actually," Ian said with a kind smile as he dug his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels.

"Oh, Mickey loves surprises," Mandy singsonged. "Don't you, Mickey?"

Mickey shot Mandy a baleful look that caused his sister to throw up her hands and then hop off the counter.

"I'm gonna go to my room and do some work."

"Good idea," Mickey snipped.

"Have fun on your date," Mandy called out as she headed towards her bedroom. "And remember…no glove, no love."

Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb as he bristled with irritation. Why was his sister so fucking embarrassing?

"So…you, uh, you ready to go?" Ian asked after a short, awkward pause. "Reservation's at eight."

Mickey looked up and licked at his bottom lip as he nodded. He then headed towards the door, but was stopped when Ian reached out to grab his wrist.

"Hey. You sure you wanna do this with me?" Ian asked. "I'll understand if you're not ready, or if you wanna…"

Mickey stared up into Ian's eyes and finally felt himself start to relax. "Nah, man, I'm ready."

"You sure? You just seem really nervous."

Mickey thumbed at his lip. "Just never really did this shit before…the whole dating thing."

"It's just me, Mick. No reason to be nervous," Ian assured, and then smiled when Mickey looked at him. "You're fucking adorable when you're nervous, you know that?"

A slow grin spread across Mickey's face. "Were you always this fucking corny? I don't remember you being this corny."

"Fuck you," Ian quipped with a laugh.

"So, how're we going to do this?" Mickey said with his own laugh. "We going to actually date like real fucking people?"

"Yeah," Ian said with a nod. "I want to take things slow this time. No kissing, no sex. Just us getting to know each other."

"Whoa, hey…back the fuck up. I don't remember agreeing to no sex," Mickey said, his eyebrows shooting up as they headed towards the door.

"Too bad, we're waiting."

"First you disappear on me for seven months, now you're withholding sex? Fuck."

They continued bickering the whole way out the door, as if no time had passed at all.

* * *

By the time their fifth date rolled around, Ian had been back in Mickey's life for almost a month, and all nervousness and apprehension was completely gone.

If anything, now all Mickey was feeling was fucking horny.

Ian was remaining steadfast in his decision to not rush into sex, and the most they had done was kissing and heavy groping, only for Ian to stop it every time before it went too far.

Mickey was getting frustrated, to say the least.

"I think it's kinda sweet," Mandy said with a shrug as she went about making coffee.

Mickey looked up from buttering his toast with an arched eyebrow. "So Ian giving me blue balls is sweet? The fuck."

Mandy sneered. "No, moron. The fact that he wants to takes things slow and do it right is sweet."

"This isn't taking it slow. Waiting a week or two is taking things slow. This is fucking torture. I've never jerked off so much before in my life."

"Wow, Mickey, I never realized you were such a cock slut."

"I wasn't until I met him," Mickey said, smirking around his bite of toast.

Mandy sneered again before saying. "So, things are going good with you two then?"

"Yeah, really fucking good," Mickey said with a small smile. Because it was true. Things were fucking great. Except for the whole no sex thing.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he put his toast down to retrieve it. It was a text message from Ian; a picture of his cock with his hand wrapped around it. The subject read: thinking about you.

"Fuckin' tease," Mickey muttered before putting his phone away. He then abandoned his half-eaten toast and headed for the bathroom.

As Ian and Mickey were walking out of a restaurant a few nights later, Ian reached over and laced his fingers through Mickey's.

Mickey stiffened a little, still a little apprehensive about public displays of affection, but then relaxed when he looked up to meet Ian's eyes. He smiled gingerly and gave Ian's hand a squeeze as they started their way down the sidewalk.

"So, did you enjoy your dinner?"

"Fuck yeah, I did," Mickey said. "Can't go wrong with a nice, juicy steak." He then tossed a sideways glance in Ian's direction. "I'm paying next time, though."

"No, I got it. I don't mind paying. I have a big boy job now, remember?"

"Ian, I'm paying next time. You've paid for practically every date so far," Mickey snipped. "I'm not your bitch."

"Mickey, I got you, alright. Don't worry about it."

Mickey sighed and stopped walking, causing Ian to stop as well and turn to face him. "You don't have to impress me, you know. You don't have to make up for anything here. This is a clean slate, remember? That shit that happened in the past is in the past; the shit with Ayden, me lying about being a wedding planner, you leaving…it's all in the past. I'm in this. I'm not going anywhere."

Ian sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he glanced around. He then looked back at Mickey, looking unsure.

"What's going on with you, huh?" Mickey asked, reaching up to cup his hand around the back of Ian's neck. At the moment, he didn't care that they were standing in the middle of a busy sidewalk, he just cared about the forlorn look on Ian's face.

"I just want to do things right," Ian finally said. "I don't want to fuck this up. Last time…with him…I was the one being taken care of. I just…I wanna take care of you, Mickey. I wanna prove that I can do that for someone…that I can do that for you."

Mickey smirked. "Well, you need to get that shit outta your head. You don't need to prove anything to me. I don't need to be taken care of. We're in this fifty-fifty, alright?" When Ian nodded, he continued. "And you're not going to fuck anything up," he reiterated, stepping closer. "You got me. I'm in this. We're good."

Ian pressed his forehead against Mickey's and nodded his head before letting out an unsteady breath.

Mickey closed his eyes and heard Ian's breath hitch as he pressed in closer against Ian. "Ian," he murmured huskily after a few moments.

Ian slipped his hands inside Mickey's jacket and placed his hands on Mickey's hips. "Yeah?" he asked throatily.

"How much longer are you planning on waiting to fuck me?"

Ian pulled away and looked around, taking into account where they were and how long it would take them to get back to Mickey's apartment. "Seven minutes, give or take a minute or two?"

Mickey licked his lips and nodded. "Let's fucking go then."

It took them a little less than seven minutes before Mickey was unlocking his apartment door. Ian eagerly pushed him inside from behind as soon as the door opened.

Mandy looked up from her spot on the couch. "Hey, how was your date? You guys are home early."

"You might wanna leave for a couple of hours," Mickey said as he started shrugging out of his jacket, his eyes glued on Ian the entire time. "Unless you want to hear some shit I'm pretty sure you're not gonna want to hear."

It took a few seconds for Mickey's words to register. Mandy made a face as she stood up. "About time you're giving him some dick," she said to Ian, who was too busy watching Mickey toe out of his shoes. "Maybe now he won't be such a miserable prick all the time."

"Out," Mickey groused. "Now."

"Alright, Jesus. I'm going," Mandy snipped as she grabbed her jacket. "Just don't fuck on any surface where I normally eat," she said, and then left.

As soon as they were alone, Mickey grabbed Ian's wrist and pulled the other man to him. "C'mere," he rasped just before their lips touched. They kissed, their lips just softly brushing.

Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey, and then smoothed his hands down Mickey's back and grabbed his ass, pulling Mickey closer and tighter against him. "Jesus, how did I go without this ass for eight fucking months?"

"You could've had my ass a month ago, but you wanted to be all fucking chivalrous and gentlemanly and shit," Mickey said throatily. He bit his bottom lip and moaned as Ian continued kneading his ass.

Ian kissed Mickey's cheek sweetly, and then feathered his lips to Mickey's ear. "I wanna take my time with you tonight. Relearn every inch of you with my mouth, hands, and tongue. I want you so fucking bad, Mickey."

"Fuck," Mickey breathed. He reached up and grabbed the back of Ian's head, digging his fingers into red hair as Ian kissed his way from Mickey's ear, along his jaw, and then nipped at his neck.

Ian removed his hands from Mickey's ass and brought them around to undo Mickey's belt. "You smell so fucking good," he murmured into Mickey's neck.

"I bought cologne," Mickey grumbled lamely. Mickey then groaned, gripped Ian's shoulders for leverage, and angled his head, giving Ian more room to suck and bite at his neck.

"Mm," Ian moaned as he licked up to Mickey's ear. "You're already so hard for me," he murmured as he slipped his hand inside the front of Mickey's jeans.

"I want you so fucking bad, Ian," Mickey breathed against Ian's ear. "Been waiting for this…for too fucking long."

"Mm, I can tell." Ian continued to palm Mickey and suck at his neck.

Mickey grabbed Ian's hair harder and angled his own head back, letting out a satisfied groan as Ian slowly jerked him off.

Ian was breathing heavily by that point. He removed his hand from Mickey's jeans, and then tugged the denim down and over Mickey's hips. Mickey was going commando. "Jesus, Mickey," he said as he watched Mickey's cock spring free.

Mickey laughed breathlessly as he kicked out of his pants. "I was kinda hoping tonight would be the night, so I didn't wear boxers. Figured it would make getting undressed easier."

"Good call," Ian rasped as he pumped Mickey's cock and then smiled when Mickey groaned in appreciation. "Let's go to the bedroom." Without warning, he grabbed Mickey up and laughed breathlessly as Mickey immediately wrapped his legs around Ian's waist. "You really have been waiting for this, haven't you?"

"Just shut the fuck up and get on me already," Mickey demanded before leaning in and shutting Ian up with a biting kiss.

Ian turned and headed towards the bedroom, stumbling a little with Mickey's weight wrapped around him. He kicked the door open and then walked to the bed. He placed Mickey down on the mattress and then smiled down at him.

Mickey wrapped a hand around the nape of Ian's neck and pulled him down for a sweet kiss.

As his tongue slowly tangled with Mickey's, Ian reached between them and grabbed the bottom of Mickey's shirt. He slowly dragged his hands under the cotton material and up the length of Mickey's torso. "Lift up," he said huskily, and then pulled Mickey's shirt off, leaving him completely naked beneath Ian.

Mickey stared up at Ian with hooded eyes and reached up to place his palm against Ian's cheek.

Ian nuzzled his cheek against Mickey's palm, and then turned his head to place a soft kiss against it. He then looked back down at Mickey.

"I love you, Mickey," Ian murmured for the first time. He then leaned down and pressed a kiss to Mickey's forehead, and then both cheeks, and then finally his lips. "I love you," he said again, and then deepened the kiss, licking at the crease of Mickey's lips, moaning when Mickey opened for him. He pressed his full weight against Mickey, and braced his arms around Mickey's head as they kissed.

Mickey smoothed his hands up under Ian's shirt and then dragged his shirt up.

Ian pulled back from the kiss and sat up long enough to pull his shirt over his head before leaning back down. He sucked Mickey's upper lip into his mouth, and then his bottom lip, before hungrily dipping his tongue to meet Mickey's.

Mickey raked his fingers up and down Ian's bare back and then finally slipped his hands under the waistband of Ian's jeans. "I want these off, now."

"Not yet," Ian breathed as he leaned down to press soft moist kisses against Mickey's neck. "I told you I wanted to take my time with you tonight," he murmured as he began slowly kissing his way down Mickey's body. He swirled his tongue around a nipple, taking the tiny pebble of flesh between his teeth and nibbling gently. He lifted his eyes to meet Mickey's, and his cock twitched at the sight of Mickey watching him and gnawing on his lower lip. He then moved his mouth over to the other nipple and gave it the same attention.

Mickey was practically writhing beneath him at that point, arching and bucking up to rut against Ian's stomach.

Ian kissed his way down Mickey's sternum and then slowly licked a trail down Mickey's stomach. He playfully nipped at the soft flesh of his tummy and then dipped his tongue into Mickey's belly button.

Mickey's right hand fisted in Ian's hair as he said, "You weren't fucking kidding about taking your time, were you?"

"Hm mm," Ian hummed as he positioned himself between Mickey's legs and drew each leg over his shoulders. He then got comfortable and sprinkled delicate, warm kisses along his boyfriend's inner thighs.

"Jesus," Mickey rasped as he pressed his head back against the pillow.

Ian smiled against Mickey's skin. "Love your fucking thighs." He then bit into the soft pale flesh of Mickey's inner thigh and began sucking a hickey into it. "So fucking perfect."

Mickey let out a long, breathy sigh and tightened his hold on Ian's hair. He bucked up a little, his cock dripping and brushing against his stomach, aching to be touched.

Ian left small marks on Mickey's thighs, taking his time to kiss and lick and nibble on every inch of them. He nuzzled his nose in Mickey's pubic hair and then lifted his eyes. He deliberately kept his eyes locked with Mickey's as he grabbed Mickey's cock and pumped it slowly a few times. He then leaned in and licked at Mickey's perineum.

"Fuck," Mickey moaned, bucking again.

Ian didn't break eye contact as he licked at Mickey's perineum and then took a ball into his mouth, sucking on it gently.

Mickey was panting by this point, both of his hands now buried in Ian's hair. "Christ, Ian. Feels so fucking…so fucking good. Don't stop."

Ian moaned in response and then licked a thick wet stripe along the underside of Mickey's cock. He pumped it a couple of times as he gently swirled his tongue around the head. He knew what Mickey wanted, but Ian wasn't finished with him yet. "Turn over."

Mickey dropped his legs from Ian's shoulders and then rolled over willingly, knowing what was coming. He then buried his face against his pillows.

Ian palmed his hands along Mickey's ass, kneading and spreading the cheeks apart, his cock pulsating at the sight of Mickey's tight, pink puckered hole. "Come here," he husked as he pulled Mickey back and up, so that Mickey's ass was high in the air.

"Ian," Mickey moaned.

Ian pressed the palm of his hand against the small of Mickey's back, and then lightly thumbed at Mickey's asshole. He then leaned in and nipped at Mickey's plump ass cheeks, taking his time biting and sucking and licking, until he was unable to resist anymore and he spread Mickey open. He just barely touched the tip of his tongue to Mickey's asshole, and laughed a little at the sound Mickey made against the pillow.

"You like that?"

"Fuck, yeah," was the muffled reply.

Ian grabbed Mickey's ass with both hands and spread him open wider. He spat twice at Mickey's hole, blew on the spot, and then leaned back in to swirl his tongue around the tight ring of muscle. He moaned and leaned back before spitting at it again and dove back in eagerly with a groan. He reached down, unfastened his jeans, and slowly began stroking his own cock as he ate Mickey out.

Mickey was clutching the sheets, and slowly rocking forwards and backwards as Ian filthily tongue fucked him.

Ian pulled back and kneaded Mickey's ass cheeks, leaving white fingermarks on Mickey's skin. He smacked Mickey's ass playfully before leaning back in with a groan. He swirled his tongue over and over before dipping his tongue inside. When he felt Mickey react to that, he began fucking his tongue in and out. Ian reached down and continued palming his own cock through his pants, not knowing how much longer he was going to be able to draw this out.

"Feels so fucking good. Fuck me with that tongue," Mickey moaned. "Fuckin' love it."

Ian pulled away fully and got off the bed. He quickly undressed as he lustfully took in the sight in front of him. He crawled back on the bed and rested on his back. "Sit on my face."

Mickey really didn't have to be told twice. He sat up and maneuvered himself over Ian's head. He let out a long, unsteady breath as Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey's thighs and pulled him down. "Fuck," he breathed as Ian's soft, moist tongue lapped at him. "Christ, Ian," he choked as he reached behind himself to grab hold of Ian's hair.

Ian's hands smoothed over and kneaded Mickey's thighs as he slowly ate him out. His moans were muffled as Mickey's ass practically suffocated him.

Mickey buckled forward and took the head of Ian's cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head, and moaning at the taste of pre-come. He wrapped his hand around the base and stroked him. He pulled away from Ian's dick with a wet pop of his mouth and a groan as Ian continued to tongue fuck him.

"Fuck. Ian," Mickey choked out. "I need you in me. Now."

Ian nodded and gave Mickey a few more licks before motioning for him to get up.

Mickey crawled on his hands and knees to the side of the bed, and grabbed the lube and condoms from the bedside table. Not wasting any time, he rolled the condom over Ian's leaking cock and then lubed his own fingers up, reaching around to fuck himself with his fingers to loosen himself up. Mickey hovered over Ian, reaching behind himself to grab Ian's dick. He pressed down on the head, and then wiggled and shifted down until Ian was fully inside him for the first time in over eight months.

"Fuck, I really fucking missed this," Mickey gasped.

Ian let out a breathy laugh as he palmed at Mickey's chest and fell apart.

Mickey buckled forward and relaxed against Ian's chest. They lazily kissed as Mickey set a slow, steady pace; wanting to draw it out even though they both knew it wasn't going to take much.

"I love you," Ian murmured against Mickey's lips for the second time that night, for the second time ever.

"I love you, too," Mickey breathed back as his fingers played in Ian's hair. "Fuck. I fuckin' love you."

It took everything in them to keep the pace slow and steady, not wanting it to end. They both came minutes later. Mickey didn't pull away from Ian, only pressed down closer against him and panted against the crook of Ian's neck, not ready to let go just yet.

Ian ran his hands up and down Mickey's sweaty back and pressed a kiss into his hair. He then wrapped his arms tighter around Mickey, not ready to let go just yet, either.

* * *

"The fuck's wrong with you?" Mandy asked Mickey almost five months later. The siblings were lounging on the couch as always, an old sitcom rerun playing on the TV. For the past half an hour, she watched Mickey chew off half of his thumbnail and his leg wouldn't stop bouncing.

"The fuck're you talking about?"

"Why are you so fidgety? It's annoying. What's going on with you?"

"Nothing's going on with me. The fuck's going on with you?" Mickey shot back immaturely.

Mandy rolled her eyes and then hit Mickey in the chest with a pillow. "Tell me what's going on with you, or I'll titty twist it out of you."

Mickey sighed heavily and ran a hand over his mouth, knowing that she wasn't going to let it drop. "I'm thinking about asking Ian to…fuck…to…"

Mandy arched an eyebrow. "Thinking about asking Ian to what? Come on, shithead, don't leave me hanging!"

Mickey shot her a baleful look before continuing. "Thing's have been going really good between us lately. Really fucking good," he said, scratching at the back of his neck. "He spends almost every night here anyway, and his job is closer to here than the Gallagher house, and—"

"Oh, my God!" Mandy exclaimed, hitting Mickey hard on the chest with the back of her hand. "You're going to ask him to move in with you, aren't you?"

"See, this is exactly why I didn't want to talk to your ass about this. I knew you'd give me shit for it."

"I'm sorry," Mandy said through her laughter. "It's just…it's cute, you know? Seeing you all in love and happy and domesticated."

Mickey picked up the pillow she had previously assaulted him with and whacked her in the face with it.

"Why are you so nervous? He's so fucking into you, it's kinda sickening. You know he's going to say yes."

"No, I don't know that. He's the one who wanted to take this shit slow. I don't know what goes on inside his head half the time."

"You said it yourself; he's here every night anyway," Mandy pointed out with a shrug. "It makes sense."

Mickey went back to chewing on his thumbnail. He hoped Mandy was right and he wasn't about to make a complete fucking asshat out of himself.

* * *

A couple nights later, Ian pulled away from the heated kiss and sat back a little…his hair tousled, his cheeks flushed, and his lips swollen.

Mickey grinned at the sight, his chest swelling with emotion.

"Won't Mandy be home soon?" Ian asked breathlessly. "Maybe we should take this to your room."

"She went out with Emily for a few drinks. She won't be back for a while," Mickey said as he smoothed his hands up Ian's bare chest, and then clasped them around the back of Ian's neck. He pulled his boyfriend back down against him and resumed their hungry kissing.

Ian groaned into Mickey's mouth and rutted against him. They were making out and groping each other and moaning like a pair of horny fucking teenagers, and they loved it.

After a few minutes, Mickey was the one who stopped this time. He pressed a hand to Ian's chest and motioned for Ian to sit back.

"What's wrong?" Ian asked as he removed his weight from Mickey and sat back against the arm of the couch. A second later, Mickey was in Ian's lap straddling him this time. Ian smiled up at Mickey as their hands laced together. "Why'd you stop?"

Mickey's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to find the right words. "I love you. You know that, right?"

Ian smiled gingerly and leaned in to tap his forehead against Mickey's. "Yeah, I know. I love you, too." He then frowned a little. "What's going on?"

"I think we're at a really good place in our relationship. We've been dating now for over six months."

"Yeah," Ian said breathlessly with a nod. "Things are really good. What's going on? Why do you look so serious right now?"

Mickey opened his mouth, froze, and then closed it again. He scrubbed a hand down his face. "Fuck."

"Just tell me. You're starting to freak me out here, Mick."

"I want you to move in with me," Mickey blurted. He then quickly added, "most of your shit's here anyway, you're here practically every night as it is. Your job isn't that far from here, and I figured that you—"

"Mick," Ian interrupted him with a hand pressed to Mickey's lips. "What's the matter with you? Since when do you ramble like this?" He laughed and leaned in to press a kiss to Mickey's forehead. "You don't have to be so nervous. You know I was just waiting until you asked me, right?"

Mickey pulled back to look at him, his eyebrows furrowing. "You've already been thinking about moving in?" He watched as Ian visibly swallowed, the smile slipping from his face. "I've been going bat shit crazy over the past week and a half wanting to ask you, and you've already been fucking thinking about it?" He then slowly smiled and leaned in to kiss his dumbfounded boyfriend. "So, does this mean you'll move in with me?" he mumbled against Ian's lips.

Ian's hands smoothed down Mickey's back, and then rounded over his ass to pull Mickey even closer against him. "Well, since you asked so nicely," he murmured before deepening the kiss.

Mickey pulled back enough to say, "Are you sure? It's a big fucking step and I just—"

Before Mickey could finish his sentence, Ian kissed him again to shut him up.

* * *

A couple of days later, Mickey said his goodbye to Ian on the phone, and then turned to find his sister sitting at the counter island watching him.

"So, he's really moving in, huh?" Mandy asked as she slowly stirred her coffee. "You're officially taking that next big step?"

"Yeah," Mickey said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Looks like it. He'll be moving in over the weekend. Shouldn't take long to move all his shit." When he looked back up, he realized his sister was about to say something serious. "You alright? Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?"

"I think I'm going to move out."

"The fuck're you talking about? I thought you said you were okay with Ian moving in," Mickey asked, his eyebrows going.

"No. I am. I'm so for the two of you living together, you know that," Mandy said. "I just don't think I should live here with you. It'd be kinda weird, and I would just be in the way."

Mickey's shoulders slumped a little when he realized what she was saying. "You don't have to go just because he's going to be living here now. We'll probably be in my room ninety-five percent of the time anyway," he said with a suggestive smirk around the rim of his glass.

"I know I don't have to go, but I want to. It's time. We can't live together forever," Mandy said with a small smile to let him know that it was okay. "Look at you. You're finally in love for the first time in your life. You're actually in a fully functioning, adult relationship. You two don't need me hanging around."

"Well…fuck," Mickey said, rubbing a hand over his mouth and looking away. "Where the fuck are you gonna go?"

"I'm going to go stay with Emily for a little while," Mandy answered. "She's been looking for a roommate anyway, so I figured why not." She then stood up and walked over to her brother. "I know I don't say it enough—in fact I don't think I've ever said it—but…I'm proud of you. Like really fucking proud."

Mickey wrapped an arm around his sister's shoulders and pulled her in for a tight hug. "Proud of you, too," he mumbled.

Mandy pulled away a moment later, and laughed as she swiped at her eyes. "You're a fucking asshole."

"How the fuck am I an asshole?"

"For making me cry."

"How the fuck did I make you cry?" Mickey exclaimed.

"Going and getting yourself all wifed up."

"Oh, fuck off."

Mandy let out a wet laugh, and then hugged him again.

* * *

Ian and Mickey had been living together for almost a month.

It took some getting used to at first. They quickly found that actually living together was somewhat different from Ian just spending the night most nights.

For instance, Mickey found out that Ian had a really irritating habit of leaving his wet towels laying on the bathroom floor after he took a shower, and that he never replaced the toilet paper roll when he used it all up. Ian found that Mickey never rinsed his toothpaste spit out of the sink when he finished brushing his teeth, and that he always (fucking always!) had to have control of the remote while they were watching TV.

Still, even though they were still getting used to each other's bad habits and weird quirks, they loved living together. They loved going to bed together every night and waking up together every morning. They loved grocery shopping and getting all the junk food they desired and sharing the Sunday paper. They loved doing laundry together in the small laundry room in the basement of their apartment building (they especially loved the late night laundry sessions when they would make out and dry hump and get off against the vibrating washing machine).

Things were going well, until they had their first real fight as an actual cohabiting couple.

"You're doing it wrong," Ian said as he hovered over Mickey to watch him work.

"I'm not fucking doing it wrong. I know what the fuck I'm doing," Mickey snipped. "Will you back the fuck up and give me some space? Jesus."

"I'm telling you…you have to turn it the other way," Ian said, crossing his arms and stubbornly standing his ground. He then rolled his eyes. "Here, just let me do it."

"Fuck off." Mickey pulled the wrench away from the pipe and pulled his head out from under the sink to stare up at his boyfriend disdainfully. "I'm not fucking turning it wrong. Righty tighty, lefty loosey. Ever hear of that?"

Ian's lips twitched into a smirk. "Did you really just say that? Did those words really just come out of your mouth?"

Mickey let out an exasperated sigh and disappeared back under the sink. "Get the fuck out of here and let me work. Fuck!"

"Or we can do the normal thing, like…oh, I don't know…call a fucking plumber, maybe?" Ian retorted, just as he heard a snap and then a hissing sound, water suddenly spraying all over the place.

Mickey quickly stood up, already getting soaked. "What the fuck!" He then looked at Ian to find him doubled over with laughter. "This isn't fucking funny, asshole! We're getting water all over the goddamn place! This is going to be a bitch to clean up!"

"It's a little funny," Ian said, still laughing as he clutched at his side.

"Fuck you," Mickey snipped as he stared back. The corner of his lip twitched upwards. "Christ, look at you," he said, his voice softening as he stepped closer. "You look fucking ridiculous." He brought his hand up and smoothed his thumb over Ian's wet cheek.

Ian grinned and then pulled Mickey against him as the water continued to spray around them. "And you look fucking hot," he said, dipping his hands under the waistband of Mickey's sweatpants to grab his ass. "All wet and grumpy…"

"Come on, man," Mickey said unconvincingly when Ian began kissing his neck. He pulled away from Ian's strong hold. "I need to call maintenance to come deal with this shit."

Ian pulled away reluctantly. "Well, hurry up and let's get this over with so I can fuck you," he said as he looked Mickey over, his eyes blinking from the water running into his eyes. His t-shirt was starting to cling to his chest and his nipples were hard.

Mickey stared back at Ian before practically throwing himself back into Ian's arms. "I guess we can make this quick before the place floods," he murmured huskily.

"Mm," Ian moaned as he pulled Mickey closer.

Just as Ian began pushing Mickey back against the counter to fuck him on it, they both lost their footing and slipped on the wet floor, both of them falling hard on their asses.

They both cursed and laughed liked idiots as their asses throbbed in pain and the water continued spraying around them.

The maintenance guy showed up ten minutes later. He was not happy, but the whole situation served as some really good foreplay later that night.

* * *

The other shoe dropped a few weeks later.

Mickey hadn't been naïve. He knew Ian was sick. Bipolar. He knew it was only inevitable before something went wrong. He had just been foolishly thinking that nothing would go wrong so soon. He'd thought when something finally did happen, he'd be prepared for it.

He hadn't been prepared.

It happened out of nowhere. One day, Ian was his normal, outgoing self; laughing and teasing and joking and irritating Mickey like always. The next day—it seemed—he was lying in bed, the blankets wrapped around him, refusing to get up…refusing to even talk or eat.

At first, Mickey thought Ian just had a bad case of the flu or something. But—as the days wore on and nothing changed—he knew something was really wrong. He had no other choice but to ask for help. He reluctantly called Ian's sister Fiona who, on immediate inspection, knew exactly what it was.

With a lot of goading and persuading, they had managed to finally get Ian to go see a doctor. They prescribed him a different cocktail of meds and had to wait it out.

Finally, after almost a week and a half of heartbreak on Mickey's end, Ian gradually began to feel better.

Mickey stood cautiously in the doorway of their bedroom and eyed the lump under the covers in the middle of the bed. "Hey," he said throatily.

"Hey," was the soft, muffled replied.

Mickey was just relieved Ian was talking again. He tentatively made his way further into their bedroom. "You, uh, you hungry? I can make you something to eat. We got cereal, I can make you a sandwich. Whatever you want."

"'m not hungry."

Mickey sighed and swiped a hand down his face, remembering he needed to keep his patience. He tried again, keeping his voice steady. "You gotta eat, Ian. You haven't eaten anything in over a week. At least eat some crackers or something."

Ian didn't say anything to that.

Mickey peeled back the covers and crawled into bed with his boyfriend. Ian didn't smell too fresh, and he was damp with sweat, but Mickey wrapped an arm around him regardless and pulled Ian closer. He pressed soft, lingering kisses against Ian's forehead and closed his eyes.

After a long pause, Ian finally spoke, his voice muffled against Mickey's chest. "You don't have to do this, you know," Ian said, his voice small and childlike. "You don't have to put up with this. You don't owe me anything."

Mickey pulled back and looked down at Ian to see that Ian was now crying, a tear slowly rolling down his cheek and into his pillow. "I know I don't," he murmured, reaching a thumb up and swiping a tear away, "but I'm not going anywhere, so get that fucking idea outta your head."

Ian let out a long, unsteady breath and squeezed his eyes shut, his eyebrows furrowing. "You shouldn't have to put up with this. You shouldn't have to deal with this," he said, his voice quivering. "This is my shit, Mickey. Not yours."

"Aye," Mickey said, hooking a finger under Ian's chin and forcing Ian to look up at him. Only after Ian opened his wet eyes, did Mickey continue. "Your shit is my shit. I'm in this, you hear me? How many times do I have to tell you that? You're it for me, Ian. Nothing can change that. Not that fucking asshole, not this bipolar shit, not anything. You're it. So shut the fuck up, and let me take care of you." Mickey pulled Ian closer against him, wrapped Ian up tight in his arms, and propped his chin atop Ian's head.

Ian allowed himself to be held and soon fell asleep.

Mickey remained awake as he continued to hold Ian, stroking Ian's back and hair into the wee hours of the morning.

Mickey knew in his heart that—as scary as all the bipolar stuff was—with Ian was where he was supposed to be.

* * *

A few months later, Ian was acting really fucking weird.

Mickey didn't know for sure, but he had a feeling that Ian was keeping something from him. At first, he thought maybe it was another bipolar episode coming on, but it wasn't. Aside from Ian's aloofness and weird behavior, he seemed to be fine. Mickey didn't know what the fuck was up, but he didn't like it.

One night after a particularly long ass shift at the diner, Mickey came home to find Ian lounging casually on the couch, his eyes glued to the television.

"Aye," Mickey said, tossing his keys onto the counter and shrugging out of his coat.

"Hey," Ian said, without even bothering to look up as he channel-surfed.

Mickey swallowed the bitter lump in his throat, the now familiar feeling of dread he'd been experiencing the past few days settling in his chest. He just didn't know what the fuck was wrong. "Fucking good to be home," he said as he toed out of his shoes, all the while watching Ian warily. "Was a long ass night."

"That sucks," Ian said monotonously.

Mickey gnawed on his lower lip and tried again. "You eat yet? I was thinking of ordering some food."

"I had a sandwich a little bit ago," Ian answered, still not looking at Mickey.

"Alright, what the fuck's up with you?" Mickey asked as he walked further into the living room.

Ian fidgeted a little and finally looked away from the television. He stared up at Mickey, his face unreadable.

Mickey's shoulders slumped and his heart thumped miserably in his chest. This was it. This was Ian breaking up with him.

He knew everything seemed too good to be true. Things were going way too fucking good. Nothing good ever lasted in Mickey Milkovich's life.

"Come sit down," Ian finally said, turning on the couch so that he was sitting back against the arm of it. "I need to…to talk to you about something important."

Mickey reluctantly walked over to the couch. He sat down next to his boyfriend and ran a shaky hand over his mouth. He blinked his eyes a few times to keep the tears at bay, and he waited impatiently for Ian to speak, resisting the strong urge to tell Ian to just blurt it the fuck out.

"Mick," Ian began, and then paused to run a hand through his hair.

Mickey watched him miserably. "Just fucking say it. This is it," he blurted first. "This is you breaking up with me, isn't it?"

Ian pulled his hand away from his face, his eyebrows furrowing. "What? No! Mickey," Ian said, turning so that he was facing Mickey more. "I'm not fucking breaking up with you, why would you even think that?"

Mickey slumped back against the couch and let out an unsteady breath. "I don't know…fuck! You've been acting so fucking weird the past couple of days, I didn't know what the fuck was wrong."

Ian smiled as he reached for Mickey's hand and laced their fingers together. "No, I'm not breaking up with you," Ian assured Mickey before adding, "Quite, uh, quite the opposite, actually."

Mickey lifted his head from the back of the couch and frowned at Ian. "The fuck're you talking about? What do you mean opposite?"

"Fuck," Ian said, hanging his head and scratching a hand through his curls. "I had what I was going to say in my head, but now that I actually have to fucking say it, I can't remember what I was going to say."

"Just say it," Mickey pressed, eager to just know what the fuck it was that was making his boyfriend so damn nervous and fidgety.

With a deep exhale, Ian finally lifted his head and locked eyes with Mickey. "Okay," he finally began. "Okay. Don't say anything until I'm done, alright? Promise me."

"Just fucking tell me," Mickey said, but there was no edge to his tone.

"No. Promise me first, Mickey."

"Alright, fuck, Jesus! I promise. The fuck is it?"

Ian visibly swallowed, and then said, "I know you told me before that you don't believe in marriage…that you think it's a big fucking joke and that it's just a piece of paper," he said, his voice shaking a little with nervousness, "…but I figured I'd ask you anyway."

Mickey stared back at Ian, realization finally dawning on him. He didn't say anything, couldn't say anything even if he wanted to.

"We've been together for almost a year now and…I love you, Mickey. I really fucking love you. We've been through so much shit already, and nothing seems to be able to shake us," Ian continued. "I want to do this—all of this—with you for the rest of my life."

"Ian, what the fuck are—"

"You said you wouldn't interrupt me until I was done," Ian cut in.

Mickey clamped his mouth shut and arched his eyebrows.

Ian took a few breaths before saying, "Will you marry me?" In the very next breath, Ian hung his head and scratched at the back of his neck. "Shit."

Mickey was silent for a handful of seconds before saying, "You fucking asshole." He pulled his hand out of Ian's grasp and stood up. "I can't fucking believe you right now," he murmured and then left the room, leaving behind a confused and heartbroken Ian.

Moments later, Mickey walked back to the couch and placed a small gray box on Ian's lap. He watched with a hammering heart as Ian hesitantly grabbed the box and opened it, examining the simple silver band inside.

Ian lifted his head and looked back at Mickey, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What is this?"

"The fuck's it look like? It's a ring."

"Yeah, but…what does this mean?"

"It, uh…it means you beat me to it," Mickey said, trying to sound cool, calm, and collected even though he was a wreck on the inside. "Look, I was going to ask you next month on our anniversary, but—" He was interrupted when Ian leaned in and kissed him hard, pinning him back against the couch and then straddling him.

Ian pulled away from the kiss for air and pressed their foreheads together. "I thought you didn't believe in marriage? Thought you didn't believe in that sappy, romance bullshit."

"Didn't," Mickey murmured, his hands slowly smoothing up and down Ian's back. "Shit changes, I guess."

Ian closed his eyes and laughed breathlessly, their foreheads still touching. "I really fuckin' love you, you know that?"

"I really fuckin' love you, too," Mickey said huskily as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Ian's cheek.

"At least we don't have to worry about hiring a wedding planner," Ian said as he nuzzled his face into the crook of Mickey's neck. "Mandy's going to be so fucking excited."

"Whoa, hey," Mickey said, "fuck that. I can plan the wedding. I have experience now, remember?"

Ian pulled back and fixed Mickey with an amused look. "Yeah," he said slowly before saying, "no," with such finality that Mickey barked out a laugh.

"C'mere," Mickey murmured, pulling his sassy fiancé back in for another kiss.

* * *

Ian and Mickey couldn't wait to tell Mandy the good news.

After fucking each other senseless on the living room floor to celebrate their new engagement, they showered, got dressed, and made their way over to the apartment Mandy now shared with Emily just a few blocks over.

On the entire elevator ride up to Mandy and Emily's floor, Ian and Mickey couldn't keep their hands off of each other.

As Mickey pushed Ian back against the wall of the elevator and palmed him through his sweatpants, Ian had half a mind to stop the elevator and fuck Mickey right then and there. Unfortunately, the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, and they lost their chance when someone joined them. Oh well. They figured they always had the ride down.

When they reached Mandy's floor, they exited the elevator full of laughter as they playfully jabbed each other in the ribs.

They were high on love, and they were both fully aware that it was cheesy as fuck, but neither of them questioned it.

Mickey shot Ian one last flirty look before lifting his hand and knocking on Mandy's door. They heard some mumbling and shuffling on the other side, and then the door opened. They were a little shocked at first to find Emily standing in front of them wearing nothing but a sheet and a frown.

"Shit, I thought you were the pizza guy," Emily said, grasping the sheet tight to her chest.

Mickey averted his eyes away from the half-naked female as Ian coughed a laugh into his fist behind him. "Is Mandy here? We need to talk to her about somethin' important."

In the next instant, Mandy appeared over Emily's shoulder…also wearing nothing but a sheet. "Ask the pizza guy to come in. See if he wants to join…oh, fuck," she said, upon realizing who was at the door.

The four of them stood in awkward silence for longer than they should have.

"Oh," Ian said slowly. "Oh! I see what's going on here." He grinned at Mickey when he looked at Ian over his shoulder.

Mickey looked back at his sister, and then at Emily, and then back at his sister before it finally sank in. "You're fucking gay now?!"

Mandy rolled her eyes, her cheeks flushed pink. "Will you keep your voice down? We have neighbors!" She then sighed and motioned with her head for them to enter. "Come in."

"Will you two at least get fuckin' dressed first? Jesus," Mickey grumbled as they all made their way inside the apartment.

A few minutes later, Mandy and Mickey were outside on the small patio, sharing a cigarette.

"So, are you bi then or what?"

"I like what I like," Mandy said as she took a hit of her cigarette.

"How the fuck did this even happen? When did it happen? How long's it been happening?"

Mandy laughed. "You're just full of fucking questions tonight, aren't you?" she snipped. She then sighed and handed him the cigarette. "It just happened. I can't explain it. You start spending so much time with someone, feelings get involved. It's been going on for about seven months now."

Mickey puffed on the cigarette as he tried to process it all.

"She's really great," Mandy said, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "I'm happy."

Mickey turned his head to look at her. "You could've fucking told me. You should've told me. Fuck, Mandy. You know I wouldn't have—"

"I know," Mandy interrupted before shrugging. "We just wanted it to be our own little secret for a while, before the real world could come crashing in and fuck everything up."

"You know," Mickey said as he flicked his cigarette a few times, "sometimes it can work out. Sometimes the real world doesn't have to fuck shit up, not if you don't let it."

"Look at you," Mandy singsonged, bumping her shoulder with his, "waxing poetry about love. You're such a fucking sap."

"Yeah, well…it's about to get a whole lot fucking worse," Mickey said, giving her a sidelong glance. He made her wait a little bit longer before saying, "Me and Ian are getting hitched."

Mandy yelped and hugged him in the next instant with such force that he almost toppled over the railing. He laughed and hugged her back as she squealed into his ear. "Fuck!"

"I am so going to be your wedding planner, right?" She then pulled away to punch him hard on the arm. "Right!"

"Ow, right! Right!" Mickey exclaimed, and then laughed. "Fuck, you punch like a goddamn dude!"

Mandy's face softened and she hugged him again. "Maybe shit can work out for us Milkoviches after all."

Mickey pressed a kiss to the side of Mandy's head and looked in through the glass patio doors to see Ian sitting at the counter island with Emily.

They locked eyes, and Mickey smiled.

* * *

Ian and Mickey got married a little over a year later.

They decided not to rush into anything. They took their time planning, and just enjoyed settling into their new life together.

It was a small ceremony on a sunny Saturday afternoon; with just Mandy, Emily, Jermaine, and the Gallagher clan in attendance.

They got married at the courthouse, and then had a small reception afterwards in the Gallagher backyard.

Instead of wedding cake, they both agreed on having wedding pie.

It only seemed fitting.

* * *

A few months after the wedding, Ian and Mickey were at the grocery store, bickering like always over what to buy. Mickey was being ultra fucking annoying with his coupons as usual, but the smile on his face when Ian inevitably gave in was worth it to Ian.

"Fine," Ian said with a sigh. "I don't know what the fuck we're gonna do with fifty rolls of paper towels, but knock yourself out," he said surly with a roll of his eyes.

"We'd get each roll for five cents," Mickey snapped, his eyebrows furrowing. "It's common fuckin' sense." He then sneered at Ian as if he was an idiot.

Ian watched as his husband turned and headed towards the next aisle, shaking his head and grumbling the entire way. As Ian turned to head towards the dairy section, he realized he was grinning. He really fucking loved that man.

As Ian was perusing the eggs—trying to remember if Mickey had a specific coupon for a certain brand—he looked up when someone stepped up next to him. He did a double take and his heart hammered in his chest upon realizing who it was.

Ayden didn't notice Ian at first.

Ian quickly looked away and wondered if he could get away without being noticed. As soon as he even thought about moving, he was spotted.

Ayden looked at Ian, his face falling as their eyes locked for the first time in almost three years. "Ian…hi."

"Hey," Ian mumbled as he reluctantly turned to fully face the other man.

"You look…you look good," Ayden said, looking him over.

Ian gave the other man a disdainful look. He couldn't say the same. Ayden looked older somehow…tired. The fancy, expensive clothes Ayden used to dress in were now replaced with a pair of simple jeans and a t-shirt. Ian didn't say anything to him in return, only looked away.

"So, how've you been?" Ayden asked, clearly intent on keeping the conversation going.

Ian looked back at him, letting out a wry chuckle. "Good. I've been good," he said flatly. "Really fucking good."

Ayden nodded stiffly, and then looked down at the carton of eggs Ian held in his hands. Judging by the look on Ayden's face, he'd spotted the silver band wrapped around Ian's ring finger. "You're married." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Yeah. I am," Ian said haughtily with a tilt of his chin. "Been married for a few months now, actually."

Ayden opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted.

"Aye, Ian," Mickey called out as he headed towards them, his eyes focused down at his hands as he sifted through his stack of coupons. "Did you see my coupon for that air freshener we like? I swear it was right fucking h—" Mickey looked up, and then stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who Ian was standing with.

Ian watched in satisfaction as Ayden's face fell as he looked back and forth between the two of them, undoubtedly putting two and two together in his head. Ian couldn't be sure, but he thought maybe he heard Ayden curse under his breath. Without saying another word, Ayden stiffly turned around and walked away.

Mickey watched after Ayden menacingly with furrowed brows before looking back at Ian, his face immediately softening. "Fuck," Mickey breathed. He walked over to Ian and grabbed him by the back of the neck to bring their foreheads together. "What did he say to you? You alright?"

"Yeah." Ian nodded, still a little shaken up by the unexpected encounter. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just took me by surprise, that's all."

"Come on," Mickey said, wrapping his arm around Ian's shoulders and pressing a lingering kiss to his temple. "Let's get the fuck outta here and go home."

Ian smiled back at him, and then leaned in to brush a soft kiss against Mickey's cheek. "Sounds good to me."


End file.
